


Lux Aeterna

by Ramonaflowersz



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, First Meetings, M/M, POV Third Person, Patroclus prefers to be called Pat, Teenagers, athlete!Achilles, patrochilles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 56,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramonaflowersz/pseuds/Ramonaflowersz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pat never bothers to call himself special; He’s borderline at schoolwork and may be outstanding at biology, but his life is dull in comparison with a boy  that keeps popping up in his life, the much admired and arrogant Achilles. Pat would ignore him if it weren't for the weird feeling of déjà vus and the random words popping into his head whenever they cross paths, and he's beginning to think there might be more to this than he first thought.</p><p>(Patrochilles Reincarnation AU, where Achilles and Pat are allowed to keep their names and appearances in exchange for their memories on earth. At least, that was the plan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first try at any fanfiction related to Song of Achilles, Many thanks to Not_Victor for editing and beta-ing, without her patience, there wouldn't be a Lux Aeterna!  
> For any questions or comments, feel free to send me an ask on Tumblr, [Achilltatos](http://achilltatos.tumblr.com/)

It was early on a spring morning, the air still lingering between night and day as Pat woke up just before his alarm could go off. He’d been studying late into the night for his upcoming Biology test, perhaps a bit too late considering that he had obligations to volunteer at a sports event for his high school committee that morning. Unfortunately, he was in need of the extra credits.

He couldn’t see himself participating in a track meet in a hundred years, for he was neither skilled nor interested enough in sports as a whole. His father had given up ages ago trying to get him into football while his mother’s only input on the subject remained, “As long as you’re happy.” Well, avoiding participation in sports was what made him happy, who could blame him?

He wasn’t in that kind of shape anyway. His limbs had grown so much last summer that his head didn’t have time to catch up with his body’s new mechanics; he would probably be a danger to any fellow sportsman if he went any faster than normal walking speed. He was a walking talking disaster, as Brianna had kindly put it.

The thought of Brianna instantly put him in a better mood. She was the only thing that would make this day bearable for him.

It actually wasn’t half as bad as he had expected when he got there, for there were many people preparing to spend the day carrying heavy tools from one spot to the next, and given that Pat was often seen as the most attentive one by far, he had been allowed to do administration. In his eyes this meant sitting in a chair all day, writing down names, making notes, and announcing the winners at the end. He could do that.

It was a small competition, otherwise they wouldn’t have allowed students in the position they’d granted to Pat. Most schools in their area participated in it, only a handful of students, and there were rumours abound that their school would win this year. They had to just wait and see, he supposed.

Students started streaming in, mostly athletes, for no one else would spend their time on a Saturday morning watching some school sports match. Parents as well, most of them proud and thrilled to see their kids perform. Pat didn’t have any issues with it, but wondered if that was what his father had wanted, for him to perform like that. Fortunately, the man had never voiced his opinion.

He saw many faces, some familiar ones who greeted him by his name, and other new ones who just smiled at him out of politeness before nervously checking out the competition. During registration, the two of them had divided the work between track sports and field sports, as Pat found track sports way more interesting. Not like that had anything to do with it, really, but he knew more about running and hurdles than he’d ever know about discus throwing. If he didn’t want any other human interaction outside of Brianna, it was a much safer choice.

*********

Finally all names were registered, and the events began. From Pat’s amazing spot he could oversee everything with ease; the long jumpers, the discus throwers and, right in front of him, the sprinters. He was right in front of the benches for the audience, where more and more people were slowly filling in. It wasn’t that early anymore, and most had found the strength to force themselves out of bed and sit there with a fresh cup of coffee.

Pat himself had gotten a cup from one of his classmates, but had been so busy registering names that it had gone cold.

The coat he had thrown over his slim shoulders was doing a poor job of keeping him warm. It would be sunny later on, but now, in the late morning, it was barely warm enough to sit outside comfortably. If he focused on the gathering athletes in front of him, he could see the steam leave their mouths as they breathed out. They were about to officially begin, and Brianna took her opportunity, briefly distracting him as she leaned in close to his ear. “So, who’s going to win?” she asked, and as Pat looked at the athletes, he grinned. She loved to bet, and she only did it when she knew she’d win, but he wouldn’t take the pleasure from her.

He looked over the contestants, comparing their bodies, their determination. In one of the rows, a broad-shouldered, dark-haired guy stood hunched over, eyes fixed on the finish, his muscular calves already tensed in the starting position. He breathed out his nose, a bull ready to attack. Pat leaned in. “Row two,” he said, choosing the bull. It couldn’t be anyone else, could it?

Unfortunately, Brianna smiled and nodded as she pointed to row seven, where Pat now noticed a guy around his height who had his golden curls under a headband and a grin on his face. He was nonchalant, not at all nervous for the upcoming race, and suddenly Pat realized why the others were. _Shit, wrong choice_. It was weird, for he was not the most muscular, nor had he the longest legs, but as the starting shot rang out, he took steps that were almost hypnotizing; so fast he could not follow them. This boy made sport look like choreography, a dance, and Pat was left baffled.

_Achilles._

The word popped up in his mind, almost as quick as the sound of the starting gun, and Pat grew confused. Was that a name? He couldn’t remember if he had ever heard that name before.

He was so distracted that he hadn’t seen the contestants finish, but he didn’t have to see it to know who had won, number seven surely had.

“Yes! That’s five dollars in mah pockets!” Brianna cheered, but Pat had other things on his mind, quickly going through some papers in front of him, looking at the names and there it was, under the title of his school, almost first on the list. _Achilles._

He was confused. He was certain he’d never heard this name before, and he surely did not remember signing the stranger in; he would’ve remembered _that_ face.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the winner of the race run off to the audience beside him, then saw an old man in his fifties stand up to greet him with cheers. That was the man he’d remembered when signing him up, how weird that it had been his name that sounded so familiar.

A warmth crept up on his cheeks without warning, his eyes returning to the list.

Achilles, he’d remember that name, surely. He then turned to Brianna, acting as if nothing of any particular interest had just happened. “You knew,” he said almost accusingly, and Brianna laughed, pointing at the blond-haired athlete again who was now surrounded by a group of other teenage boys. Pat recognized a few of them as being a part of their local football team. Jocks, he called them. He knew that it was wrong to generalize, but his generalizations weren’t often wrong. Pat had never spotted that boy in the crowd before though, maybe because of his tendency to avoid eye contact with them; he found it the best way to stay out of any drama.

“Achilles is our most prize-winning athlete, Pat. He’s won many matches before, he could probably win international competitions with ease. He’s the reason our school is most likely to win this entire thing.” Brianna must have known, of course, for she frequently volunteered at these sporting events. Patroclus.. not so much, as this was the first time he’d ever concerned himself with anything related to school sports outside of PE.

That confused Pat, because they obviously needed more than one well-performing teammate to win, right? Brianna noticed this expression and patted his shoulder, causing the other to flinch in surprise. “Look at the other lists, you’ll find his name there.” And indeed, she was right. The stranger was registered in all sprinting categories shorter than one-thousand meters. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if he won them all.

Pat caught himself staring at the other’s technique of running during matches more often than not. He reasoned with himself that he only did it to learn something from him, even though he knew quite clearly he was just fascinated by this stranger. As match after match passed, Pat also learned more about him, especially about his friends. The footballers saw Achilles as their leader, it seemed; they admired him, chanted his name over and over again whenever the match began, and cheered loudly when he won, sometimes booing the other runners as they passed.

He decided that sure, Achilles was.. fascinating, attractive in the way he moved, but he couldn’t possibly be pleasant to talk with if he excused that sort of behaviour...

He didn’t like Achilles.

*******  
**

It became very clear very soon who the champion of the day was going to be. At two in the afternoon, Achilles’ name was already on top of the list, and others only stood a chance to win if he lost the next three upcoming matches. And, well, _that wasn’t going to happen._

He won the first upcoming match.

He won the next one with nearly a two second difference.

He won the third, accompanied by the public chanting his name in excitement.

A nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach began making itself known more and more. Pat had to give prizes out to the individual event winners and to the overall winner as a representative of the sports committee, and he didn’t know if he truly wanted to be any closer to this stranger. The way the other mystified him, how familiar it felt to experience his presence equally fascinated and terrified him.

“Pat?” An hour had passed when Brianna broke the nervous silence between them. The ceremony started in half an hour, and Pat hadn’t been this tense in ages. “Hey, you okay? Do you want me to-”

“No. No, I’m fine,” he said quickly, standing up. “Let’s go get the medals then, huh?”

 _Thirty minutes, twenty five, twenty, fifteen..._ Pat could slowly see people gathering near the stage where the winners would be called to receive their prize, he himself behind one of the stage curtains. From there he could see the blond curls easily, right in front near the stairs. Of course he fucking knew he was going to win, Patroclus suspected that the other didn’t know what losing even felt like.

What he did not expect, however, was the brief moment the athlete’s eyes were instantly directed to the spot he was hidden, and a shock of adrenaline went through him as their eyes met. He jumped out of sight, unable to see the sudden confusion crossing the other’s face.

_Patroclus._

His own name had popped up into his head, as quick and as clear as the stranger’s; he didn’t have any clarification as to why, only that looking at him had triggered it.

His eyes had been as clear as emeralds, and there was something about him that made his stomach turn, not only in appearance, but in the way he held himself.

_Five minutes._

Pat was nervous. There was music playing, and Brianna was sitting right next to him quietly, knowing the guy long enough to know when to keep her mouth shut. Pat would rather not have her breach the subject, he’d do so himself when he got his mind in order.

_Four minutes._

Pat didn’t dare to look at the audience again, too afraid that he’d meet eyes with him again. Achilles already probably thought that he was creepy, or just another guy who was jealous of him, or one that admired him for his talents. A loser. He wasn’t, not at all, but what did he know? Arrogant and self-centered he was. Patroclus didn’t want to see him.

_Three minutes._

Brianna breached the subject carefully, something she had never done before. “He’s been looking over here for a while now, you know,” she muttered, and Pat’s stomach practically turned. It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d fainted right there on stage. He was going to embarrass himself, he could feel it.

_Two minutes._

Brianna held the big cardboard box filled with medals while Pat held the cup and the list of winners. He had some time to get used to naming other winners, though many would still be Achilles. Of course he could already see himself stuttering like hell, why had he not picked the simple task of carrying the equpiment around? He wasn’t a performer, nobody even really bothered to know him.

_One minute._

Brianna held his hand, only briefly, to calm him down. He didn’t thank her, though it grounded him. She was a good friend, she’d be there on stage with him so that meant nothing would happen and everything would be all right.

The music stopped, microphones were handed to them, then with a brief shuddering breath from Pat, they made their entrance, letting go of each other’s hands before anyone saw.

Brianna took over the greetings, politely thanking sponsors and contestants before gesturing at him. “And now to Pat to read out the winners of today’s competition!”

He swallowed thickly, trying to speak with as much confidence as he could into the mic. “In third place... In second place... And in first.. Achilles.”

He heard the footsteps of the winners as they climbed the stairs, waiting for them to be greeted with polite applause from the audience. He didn’t look at them until it was time to give the winners the medals, calmly putting them over their necks and congratulating them.

“Good job.”

“Congratulations.”

He didn’t say anything to Achilles as he put it around his neck, for his words would have been drowned out by the loud cheering of the football team anyway. He hoped the other didn’t notice that he’d stopped breathing for a moment, but he could feel that gaze on him. He didn’t meet it.

The medals kept piling up; Achilles had practically won everything, and it became awkward to try to make it even a bit suspenseful to call his name for first place.

The last medal he had won was piled up upon his broad chest. Five medals, flawlessly. It was this time that the athlete broke their silence.  “Thank you.”

He nervously nodded, glancing up to meet his gaze. He was surprised when another shock went through him, his heart beating faster. “You’re.. welcome,” he said before he moved back to his spot.

Now it was Brianna’s turn to give medals to the field sporters, and Pat forced his focus on her while Achilles must have been doing the same to him; he could _feel_ the other’s gaze burning into his side profile. He had looked.. curious, lost in thought. He was probably asking himself who that boy could’ve been, and why he was acting so ridiculous. Honestly, Pat didn’t have an excuse for it.

Then, as the ceremony progressed forth, they finally got to the part when the overall champion of the meet would be announced, and Pat found himself getting nervous again. “And now, with as much pleasure, I would like to announce the winner of this event!” He was as cheerful as his voice allowed him to be as he opened the ceremonial envelope; how pretentious. “This athlete has shown true motivation, and should be an example for us all..” He was almost gritting his teeth, that sounded absolutely ridiculous. He glanced down to look at Achilles, and saw how multiple people were already patting him on the shoulder, but he was looking at him, and Pat felt the hairs in his neck stand up.

“Achilles! You may come on stage and claim your prize,” he said, and within seconds the other was stood right next to him, smiling smugly once again. Unpleasant, it almost was, to see him take the prize. He was basically the opposite of Pat. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their height and their obscure names. Otherwise, Achilles was everything his own father had probably wanted him to be, but Pat was proud to be the exact opposite of Achilles; people like him never seemed to be pleasant.

“Thank you!” he said, and the dark-haired boy smiled faintly at him.

“Congratulations.” He just nodded politely, then left the stage with his hands in his pockets. Behind his back he could hear the cheers of Achilles’ fan club, only slouching his shoulders more.

Fortunately, that hell was over. He’d never have to talk to that boy again, he’d never have to give him polite smiles again, and he’d never have to experience that weird shivery feeling creep up his skin whenever their eyes met again.

_Or that's what would've happened, if it were up to him._

*********

“Uh, Hello?”

Pat was busy sitting near the table again, writing down some more data for administration while he sipped at a cup of well-deserved coffee. He looked up, almost with boredom, but then the breath caught in his throat again. The blond athlete was there, right in front of him, medals off, the trophy probably safe with his father, and his fan club nowhere in sight. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party celebrating, right now?” he asked, pointing at one of the  buildings where loud music came from. “It’s over there.” He had tried to sound careless, a bit sharp, but it had come out more like a squeak, quick and high.

Achilles only chuckled, and a warm feeling covered his cheeks again, one he hoped the other didn’t see. He hated having his heart on his sleeve, especially around _him_. “Nah, maybe later. Hey, I was just wondering something..” He glanced at the paper Pat was still writing data on, and bit his lip, emerald eyes trying to meet his. “Do we know each other?”

The question confused Pat, especially after recent events. He looked up, only to quickly hide his look of confusion. “You know who I am, I just gave you like, five medals?”

The other kept his patience though, shaking his head. “No, I mean before today, I swear I know you from something...” A brief pause, Pat had no idea what to say to get this stranger leave, but he wasn’t sure if that was something he really wanted. Everything about Achilles had felt familiar today, he had even known his name while never having been given the knowledge. Things were starting to get confusing really fast.

“Sword fighting?”

“No.”

“Do you sing? Play an instrument?”

“No.”

“Are you in class 5A?”

“No.”

“Hm.” The other seemed to grow more confused with every answer he gave, and this was starting to feel more and more like a mystery that couldn’t be solved. Pat half-wished that this stranger had known him from some sports camp in first grade, that he could just recognize him after a minute of thinking, say a short ‘ohhh… I know you from _that_ ’ and then leave him be with the conclusion that nothing was out of the ordinary. If it only it was ever so simple.

“We don’t know each other, Achilles,” Pat said tiredly. He wanted to put it behind him; he _hated_ not knowing stuff like that, to not have a proper explanation. He wanted to forget about it. He gathered the papers he’d written on, putting them in a file before standing up. “Why don’t you go talk to the people you do know? Your fan club,” he said, then moved to leave, hoping that his demeanor showed disinterest.

Achilles, fortunately, let it go for now, nodding. “Have a nice day, Patroclus.”

“You too.” Pat responded to it in autopilot, just thankful when Achilles was out of his sight, for only then he could think clearly again.

What followed, was the biggest shock of today.

_Did he just call him Patroclus?_

That name had not been used by anyone since he’d been around eight and made his parents call him the shorter version it was now, how could Achilles have possibly have known? He tried to think on it, but all he could come up with was how similar it was to the experience he’d had earlier in the day when they caught each other’s eye for the first time. He had heard his own name in the same way he had heard Achilles’.

_Had he heard that as well?_

For now, Pat didn’t want to know. It was too confusing for him.

Unfortunately for him, a certain athlete wasn’t about to give up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to Achillogy for making [this gorgeous fanart of chapter 1!](http://bottomlock.co.vu/post/119217094120/inspired-by-lux-aeterna-by-juliette)  
> Also, consider checking out [this amazing gifset Cuddlysherly made for me of chapter 1!](http://cuddlysherly.tumblr.com/post/118947756466/lux-aeterna-chapter-one-by-ramonaflowersz)

A firm hit against his elbow startled Pat back into reality, blinking his eyes into focus as he glanced at the offender. Brianna was sitting there pointing at the teacher, and his gaze followed it.

_Oh. Biology, yes._

"So, Pat, any plans on answering my question?" the teacher asked. Strict, but kind towards motivated students. Usually he was one of them, but she had no tolerance for daydreaming in her class.

"I'm sorry, miss, I didn't hear the question, could you please repeat it?" he asked, his shoulders hunching over as he felt at least a dozen eyes turn in his direction. She was willing to humiliate him if he answered wrong, he just knew it.

"I asked, as you could've heard the first time-" a laugh from the class "-what can you tell me about the Barr Body?"

"Uhhh..." Brianna looked expectantly at him as he thought. He didn't need long to come up with the answer though; he’d read about it last Friday, only a day before his mind had gotten completely jumbled up by recent happenings. "It's the inactive X chromosome in a female somatic cell, right?" he asked quietly. The silence that fell over the room was a good indication that he was, indeed, correct.

"Ah, you came prepared. Now, can someone else tell me when the inactivation happens?" Completely quiet. No one raised their hand.

Under the guise of innocence, Pat raised his hand. The teacher pretended as if she couldn't see it briefly, but when nobody else took on the question, she was practically forced to at least give him the opportunity. "It happens randomly, early on during embryonic development, in each somatic cell."

"Right." It was still quiet in class. He could see Brianna grinning at him out of the corner of his eye, and he smiled back at her.

The rest of the class period got better after that. Pat took the notes he needed without issue, and Brianna was quick to reel his attention back in whenever he strayed too far into his own head. He was regretting the volunteer work he'd chosen on that Saturday. He should've joined the cleaning crew when he had the chance regardless of whatever Brianna had been doing. He blamed it all on Achilles, who had found it oh so important to call him by his full first name. It was something that nobody could’ve known unless they’d been told, and he hadn't even done that for Brianna. He supposed that they could’ve stolen his birth certificate out of his house, or.. they could’ve heard it in their thoughts as well when they’d locked eyes during the award ceremony, which seemed to be the most plausible but equally as impossible scenario.

He had tried looking it up on the internet, to see if there was, in any way, an explanation as to what was going on, but all he really ended up with were weird fantasy theories or young adult novel plots. It explained one thing, at least: it was surreal. Pat even found himself contemplating the possibility that he’d simply dreamt the whole thing up.

Class ended, luckily, fifteen minutes later with Brianna standing up at the same time he did. "We gotta talk about this."

Exactly what he didn’t want to be doing right now.

Pat felt a bit uneasy about it, but all the same, he conceded, “We’re going to our lockers anyway, why not?”

It was busy out in the hallways, students streaming out of doors to switch classes, carrying with them the consistent sound of chatter that drowned out Brianna's words. It gave Pat an extra few moments to come up with his excuses, until they were at their lockers, two right next to each other that they had chosen for themselves. She stared at him from around the metal door. “You’ve been out of it lately, I don’t think I ever had to tell you to pay attention in Biology. Does this have to do with Saturday?”

Pat was quiet for a bit, acting like he was busy with the books in his locker, but really, he was just trying to figure out the best way to put it. He sighed, rolling his eyes. “It might... You do remember the guy who won all those medals, right? Achilles? He thinks he knows me.”

Brianna raised an eyebrow. “Does he?”

“No, we’ve never met before, but for some reason he's convinced we have.”

Brianna only seemed to half-understand it, frowning. She didn't linger too long on that, instead focusing on something that she did apparently know. “Maybe he was hitting on you, Pat. He’s _cute_ , don’t you wanna get to know him?”

Brilliant timing on Brianna's part. Pat felt his cheeks heat up, and when he avoided her gaze out of embarrassment, he was pulled into emerald green once again. It felt like a punch in the stomach. It forced the breath out of him, and a new shot like a starting gun went through his head.

_Phthia._

In his confusion he did not notice Achilles’ clear response to it as well, how the other had paused in his step.

He was vaguely aware that this couldn’t have looked normal to the people around them; to him, it felt as if time had just stopped in their little bubble, all until his friend’s voice grounded him once again. “Uh, Pat?”

He looked at her, and the sickeningly light feeling disappeared as quick as it had the previous times, leaving behind a warmth in his cheeks. “Yes?”

She clearly wanted to say something, anything, to ask what the hell that had been about. Pat glanced around to find that other people had taken notice, and he suddenly wished that he knew just how long they’d been stuck in that weird time lapse. It wasn’t really the most important thing to think about at the moment, for Brianna had some bad news to break. “He’s coming over.” Pat turned around instantly, catching sight of the other right away. Achilles was always good at making his presence known, something Pat preferred if he didn’t.

His eyes fell on broad shoulders and tanned skin before lifting up to a kind smile and bright, lively eyes; Achilles was someone to admire, to _envy_ , and for Pat, it was reason enough to dislike. There was nothing not flawless about him, even the way he walked made him look as if he were floating. Patroclus was more stuck on thinking about his theory, though, and how he might go about handling it, for Achilles might’ve heard that word as well, and Pat knew it would take everything he had to fake ignorance. Brianna wasn’t a big help either; there wasn’t much of a way for her to help with any of this drama in the first place, she simply knew too little. Pat was still deciding whether or not to tell her. Now was not the time though, certainly.

“Hey _Patroclus_ , how are you?” His stomach flipped again. He couldn’t remember anyone ever pronouncing his old name like that, so clear, so careful. The only other time he’d so much as recalled it being pronounced in that manner had been when they’d first met eyes back at the track meet. Brianna looked in confusion at Achilles, and Patroclus was considering stopping her, if only to hear Achilles say his name over and over again, maybe, because for as much as he hated him, he subconsciously admired the poetry, the performance he did constantly.

There must be something hidden below the surface, a nasty history, a weakness? He felt rude that he wanted to know, but he just needed something, anything, that would stop the sparks of envy from burning away at his insides. “Who’s Patrocus?” She had pronounced it wrong, no surprise as she’d never heard the name before.

“My name is Pat, Achilles.” He’d been quick to shut down any further questions as soon as Achilles’ face wavered in confusion, but even with that answer, he didn’t seem to want to give in. Perhaps he was just too stubborn for that, Pat figured.

But then the guy flawlessly smiled again, chuckling. “Silly how you didn’t correct me the first time, then.” Ah, there it was, a conundrum.

Pat decided to change the topic, he didn’t want to give anything away. He murmured, “I’m doing fine, by the way.” Achilles was the same height as him, blond curls falling in front of his face as he moved, only bouncing back into place as soon as he pushed them behind his ears. Glowing, it almost was, as if he didn’t belong within the confines of white plastered walls and artificial light.

Then the bell rang. Achilles looked a bit surprised when Pat got back into motion, clearly another question on the tip of his tongue. “Wait, I was just wondering-”

“Sorry Achilles, you’ll have to wait until after class.” He smiled politely, closing the locker in a hurry to just leave already, and while Brianna seemed impressed by the coolness of his voice, little did she know that his hands were shaking behind his books. That had been a close call. Pat hoped it wouldn’t ever come as close again.

They walked to their next class side by side. Brianna was so close to her tipping point by now, and he could feel her eyes on him, the way she had her lips already parted, all he could do was hold the books close to his chest to keep himself calm. “Just ask,” he said, then it came like a flood.

“What the _hell_ was that, Pat? _Patrocus?_ Like you guys are both freezing up at the same exact time, you both just stop talking in the middle of your sentence, and why is he even so interested in this? Something is going on, and I don’t like that you’re keeping me out of it.”

Nervously, Pat took his seat in the classroom, keeping his eyes down to his fumbling hands. “Would it help if I told you I don’t know what’s going on either?”

Pat didn’t explain much in the way of those random words and names popping up in his head quite yet, but he did tell her about the confusion with his real name, Patroclus. “What a ridiculous name.” That was the reason why, exactly, he’d rejected it. Pat thought that the longer version was strange. He didn’t like it, but at the same time, he did like it when it was spoken by a certain individual...

“So, then, how did he know it? If you hid it so well from everyone that even your mum sometimes forgets what it was?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m confused about.” It was best to leave it mystery for Brianna to stump herself on, for he still wasn’t quite ready to explain the rest of it. That was for another time.

She seemed to be okay with that theory for now, although he’d seen her glance at his shaking hands.

*********

The second time their eyes met was after the last class of the day. It was like a thick, syrupy feeling stuck in his throat, and it made his breath hitch. Achilles had smiled after the initial shock, and before he had the chance to come closer, Pat had hurried off, hiding in the nearest student lavatory until he was sure that the other had given up, a new word on the tip of his tongue.

_Peleus_

It was something he needed to get used to, he supposed. Looking back on his previous experiences, it was clear that the shock wasn't going to be diminished, nor was the frequency in which he saw Achilles.

He would never like it. It felt invading, almost, as if Achilles was reading his mind or even inserting thoughts into his. It felt like he wasn’t in control over it, and that would never be something that sat well with him. He wondered, feared, if Achilles could read his thoughts more often. The idea scared him.

*********

It was almost as if Achilles was following him around school from that day on, as if they were being pulled to each other like two magnets. Whenever Pat was in one of the hallways at school, Achilles was too. Sometimes, Pat saw the familiar golden curls in the distance and hurried off in the other direction before it could happen again. Other times, he heard a laugh like a song in the distance surrounded by louder, rougher voices. Those times, Pat acted as if he was simply not there while Achilles and his friends passed by.

Nonetheless, even with avoiding Achilles, a list of words had practically started forming itself, most leaving a familiar feeling in their wake, others seeming like they did not belong in this country, let alone in this language. He held the paper close to himself, didn’t title it in any way in case Brianna found it, and never read it through in fear that weird warm feeling would return on his cheeks and deep in his chest.

Was there a way to stop it? He had no clue, he kept scouring the internet for anything that could help, but nothing ever popped up. Certainly, being bound to another person like this was something to be happy about, right? How romantic of a movie this would be!

Not if said ‘soulmate’ was the last person he wanted to be with.

In the hallway between classes, in the canteen, during some classes outside, Pat spotted him easily without trying. He grew to despise it. Had he always been so close to Achilles? He wished that he could go back to not noticing him.

*********

After a week, and with 12 words on the ongoing list he’d made, things began to change. Pat found himself able concentrate once again. Achilles wouldn’t smile and try to greet Pat after the first ten times he’d rushed away from him. Although the words still came and still caused his breath to hitch, the warmth in his chest was radiating as if he’d just gotten a compliment from someone, or as if he’d just eaten some of his favourite candy. Overall, the feeling had started to become pleasant, though it was unfortunate that he needed to look at Achilles to trigger it. Not that Achilles wasn’t something good to look at. Quite the opposite, actually.

Pat noticed more about him as days followed. On the first day, he’d noticed that there was a subconscious skip in his step whenever he was with friends. He’d almost called it cute.

On the second day, Pat noticed how Achilles’ curls were wild like mattress springs, doing what they wanted and reflecting light in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. They seemed as soft as silk.

Pat managed to avoid him on the third day.

Nonetheless, on the fourth day, Pat had issues with the other’s tan skin. It glowed, golden, as if he were being bathed in sunlight no matter where he went. Why was he here? Pat didn’t understand how Achilles could even walk amongst them, to have his beauty stained by bad lighting and the dark red jersey of his athletics team.

On the last day of the week, Pat came to the conclusion that Achilles was single. He had seen many girls look at him expectantly over the course of the week, but most were ignored, and others were greeted out of politeness, but Achilles was _leagues_ different than the other guys on the team who flirted and cooed at them.

Could Brianna have been right about the flirting part?

The idea made his stomach turn. Surely not, Achilles could get models if he wanted to. There was no way he’d flirt with somebody that still held the clumsiness of a teenager, not when he himself seem to not belong on this earth, his beauty alien.

The idea that Pat might want that was always quickly dismissed, reminding himself it was exactly why he did not like Achilles.

*********

The weekend was, as usual, filled with studying. Pat usually needed more time than others to study for tests, and had meticulously planned every weekend full with his other subjects. Luckily, he had enough patience to do so. One of the best things that happened to him in the last week was that he’d become able to focus again. It felt freeing, almost, to ignore any thoughts of the other.

Unfortunately, his own mind had started to rebel. During that Saturday night, a syrupy sweet feeling covered his dreams. Flashes of summer days, swimming and laughing in a beautiful forest not yet touched by the hands of humanity. Flashes of someone with him, of a smile as bright as the sun, of tan skin he met again and again every time as he jumped into brisk waters, and it wasn’t until he saw bright, lively green eyes that Pat forced himself out of his dream, waking up with a gasp.

He didn't get any rest after that, too bothered by the heaviness in his stomach, and he was cursed yet again with a mind too preoccupied with Achilles to concentrate on anything else. He was exasperated. Even after Achilles had left him alone, the idea of him hadn’t, nor had those weird flashbacks of words.

If his parents noticed the absence of his attention during dinner, they didn't mention it, not that Pat had ever been a daydreamer.

He didn't know if there was a way to stop this. The only thing he could think of would be to figure out the source, but that meant admitting that he needed Achilles' help, and after last week, he wasn't willing to give in. He could handle it, he convinced himself, just barely. It couldn't go on forever, could it?

*********

Next week, Pat was proven wrong. It happened twice on Monday, and it seemed that Achilles had regained his motivation after he’d tried approaching Pat both times. Brianna was getting tired of it, and after the second time, she rolled her eyes when he looked at her. "He's gone?"

"Yeah, he told me to tell you to meet up with him, that it's important."

Pat shook his head, but stopped with a shout when nails dug into his arm. "Hey!"

Her eyes were like fire, glaring at Pat with such an intensity that almost made him look away. "I'm sick of it, Pat! If you don't want this happening, then tell him! I'm not gonna just watch you keep cowering away whenever you look at each other. I don't care why you're doing it, I don't mind if you don't tell me, but stop. Running. _Away._ "

She had a point, even if Pat didn't want to admit it. "Christ, fine, I will!" he exclaimed, pulling his arm back, crescent moon-shaped red marks now in his skin. Charming, Brianna, thank you. It meant that he’d have to confront someone that made his skin prickle and his stomach flip, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Pat didn’t expect Achilles to stop even if he asked for it, but it was always worth a shot; it was getting tiresome to avoid Achilles so often, but he figured that if he couldn’t stop the visions of words, he could always stop the meeting that followed soon after. He just wanted to be left alone. It felt as if part of him was ripped open every time it happened, as if everybody was suddenly looking at him, as if he had said something personal in front of the entire school.

The next time it happened was two hours later after another distracted biology class. Pat got over the initial shock of a new word with ease for once, but it was quickly replaced with nervousness of what was to come.

Achilles smiled as he approached, and Pat could see the relief wash over his face when he realized that he wasn't going to walk away. Pat nervously signed towards an empty classroom; he'd rather this be in private, he didn't even want to see the two of them like this. Achilles was right on his heels as they went in, then sat down on one of the tables, staring patiently at Pat to make the first move. Once again, now that he was up close, Pat was reminded of how absolutely stunning Achilles was, his smile almost as bright as it had been in that dream, a dream that he still remembered with a heavy heart. In some ways it had felt good to act as if that had been a memory, that he had actually swam with Achilles, that they were close, but surely he had no interest in Pat, and neither did Pat in him.

"So..." Pat tried to signal for Achilles to start, as he had just been staring at him in wonder.

"So...?" he parroted, and there it was, the reason why Pat had no desire to talk to him, the smug bastard.

"You wanted to talk to me, so I suggest you do it now, you're wasting my time." Another lie. Pat would give him all the time in the world, he knew now. He just wanted to show the other that he remained unaffected, which was probably a pathetic attempt, but ah well.

Achilles paused for another few seconds, then nodded, tilting his head curiously. Then finally those plump lips parted to break the silence. "You know why we're here, because of that Saturday, and because of recent.. things." Achilles chuckled, gesturing at him. It was clear that he was trying to keep the conversation light, but the reason why wasn't so clear. Maybe he wanted to remain charming, or maybe he feared to be called out as crazy for what followed next. "You've heard them too, right? The words? I keep hearing them when we meet eyes, words like..." He grabbed his phone. "Phthia, Elena, figs, Clysonymus, Scyros-"

"Achilles." Pat interrupted him, he didn’t need to hear all the words to know they had the same exact list. He had finally come to the fork in the road; it was now that he would have to choose either asking Achilles for help to figure this all out, or to make him stop now, once and for all. He chose one and didn't look back, hoping he sounded believable. "I don't know what you're talking about, I don't recognize any of those words." His instincts were screaming at him to take it back, to tell him the truth. Those green eyes were begging for answers, but Pat wasn't willing to give them.

The athlete went quiet for a bit, lips parted and eyebrows knit together, then bit his lips. "I dreamt about you this weekend," he said, and Pat only got more nervous. That would've sounded creepy under any other circumstances, right? He should go with that.

"You didn't really need to tell me that," he calmly responded instead, and Achilles fell silent once again. "Achilles, I think you should let this go, I'm tired of it, I want you to stop approaching me about this." The other didn't answer, only nodded weakly, and Pat grabbed his bag, putting it over his shoulder. "Uh, bye." Without a single moment's hesitation, he turned around.

His shoulder was grabbed a moment later, and Pat flinched away as he turned around, being cornered by a far broader and stronger body before he could even make it a few steps away. "Wait! Just hear me out for once!"

Pat was on-edge with his personal space now invaded. Achilles was suddenly everywhere, so close to him. He smelled like cedarwood and figs, a pleasant scent that would've calmed him down if it wasn't for the current situation, for all it was doing now was surrounding him, constricting him. He could practically feel the glow of Achilles' skin on his own. He was forced to look at the other, but avoided eye contact by looking up at the curls instead, watching them bounce with his movements, hoping he didn't look as affected by the closeness as he was. "I did hear you out, and as I told you before, I don't know you, my name isn't Patroclus, I don't know any of those words and I did _not_ dream of you! So leave me alone!" He was angry, exhausted, and he shot Achilles a glare. A terrible mistake. He had realized before today that the closer they were, the stronger the shots of words were, but Pat had never been so close during eye contact with Achilles, and within seconds, he felt himself going dizzy, his thoughts floating.

_Philtatos_

Achilles' body language had changed as well. He’d sensed the relaxation it caused before he saw or heard it, Achilles sighing deeply moments later. His presence was, for a brief moment, pleasant. He felt cocooned, safe. The feeling was foreign and it didn't last long, for the second he opened his eyes to look at Achilles, the other had his eyes narrowed. "You heard that," he accused, and Pat felt panic go through his body. If Achilles needed an indication, this was definitely it. It had been too obvious. "Philtatos, right? You heard it! You've been getting that look whenever it happens, whenever I hear those words!"

Pat was about to scream. Achilles was too close, far too close for him to think clear. Everywhere, all of him, so so close, he couldn't ignore it. He hadn't hid it well enough, and Achilles knew. He didn't want to do this with him. Giving in was so tempting, to admit it, to meet his eyes again...

"I said leave me _ALONE!"_

With a firm push against Achilles' shoulders, he was able to duck under one of his arms, darting right out the door. Luckily, Achilles had been caught in surprise, Pat didn’t think that he’d ever be able to beat his strength or speed otherwise.

*********

Pat had hidden himself in one of the other empty classrooms in a way that positioned him out of sight from the window, just in case Achilles went really looking for him. He was texting Brianna, a bit too careful in making sure that the other was gone.

_I just had the meeting_

**Oh! How did it go?!**

_He cornered me, i told him to leave me alone_

**OMG! Pat are you alright?!? Where are you?**

_I'm fine, i'm still hiding from him, i think_

**What the hell happened?!**

_Come on over, i think it's about time i tell you what's going on._

He needed someone to know, someone to talk with, but the rush of feelings that went through him whenever he met eyes with Achilles seemed almost too private, too intimate to talk about, and that made it all the worse on him.

*********

A day and a lot of explanations later, Brianna was sitting next to Pat in class again, her hand brushing over his wrist to calm him down. She’d told Achilles off yesterday, and she’d also ignored his request to be contacted again for any future conversation. Then she’d helped Pat calm down after he had emerged from the empty classroom, listening patiently to most of the explanations, though of course she found the idea absolutely absurd. It did sound like a young adult novel, of course, but this was reality, and it was often far stranger than fiction.

Brianna was his saviour, honestly. He was glad that she believed him, though she had been very adamant in getting proof.

About halfway through class, the two of them were interrupted by a tap on Pat’s shoulder, and he flinched, expecting Achilles though he knew that wouldn’t be logical, he simply had no reason to be there. Instead, it was just one of the kids from the football team. A small note was offered to him, and he stared at it dumbly for a bit. "Here, take it." Pat refused, and Brianna, with a sigh, took it from the footballer, opening it up to read it.

"Ah, lovely." She crumpled it up instantly, and relief washed over Pat, glancing at the shocked face of the footballer.

"You can tell Achilles that I'm done, one more thing and I’m telling the teacher about his assaults. He doesn't want to get expelled, does he?" He smirked at the brief annoyance that was clear on the other's face, and then leaned back in his seat, finally able to focus on the class.

Fifteen minutes later, his eyes fell to the crumpled paper on the floor. There was just something so attractive about solving this problem. He had found out that they shared the words, the dreams, and both had an unexplainable pull towards the other. It answered some questions, but it didn't bring him any closer to a conclusion.

He didn't dare to grab the note in front of the footballer though, his eyes going to Brianna, not daring to ask her about it either.

He’d waited until class was over and after everyone had left to pick it up off the floor. He didn't open it either, too afraid that for some reason this would also trigger a déjà vu. Instead, he waited until he was in an empty classroom, with no one in sight, then slowly tried to straighten it out.

There, in what he was assuming was Achilles’ messy handwriting, were words he’d wished he had never read.

_'Did you know that Philtatos means 'Beloved' in old Greek?'_

He ripped it apart, over and over again until his stomach settled and he didn't feel like screaming and shouting at the limbo of feelings. It was confusing, how much he was feeling all at once. There was _anger_ and _embarrassment_ , and a certain _fondness_ in it as well. He could feel his cheeks heat up, and in general, he needed so much time to himself before he felt ready enough to go back out in public. He hoped that Achilles was going to stop now, there was no way he’d be able to resist that pull any longer.

For his sanity, he'd rather leave it a mystery. The answer to this entire thing could not be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment or some kudos! It really makes my day!  
> Any question, want to talk, or leave a comment on my Tumblr? Feel free to send me an ask on [Achilltatos!](http://achilltatos.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny warning for some angst and mentions of some heavy stuff, but don't worry, it's not too angsty!  
>  _Nature plays_  
>  _Nature wins_  
>  Dotan- Let The River In

"Hey Pat! I was just wondering..." Pat paused in his steps through the hallway to look at one of his mentors, who smiled at him eagerly. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in volunteering for us again? You did such a good job with Brianna last time, and she mentioned she would do it with you if you wanted to." Ah yes, the second time that he’d have to volunteer for extra study points, how could he have forgotten about that? For now, he didn’t have any particular job in mind, but he already knew what he _didn’t_ want to do again.

Pat shook his head, giving the man his politest smile. “No thank you, I think I’d prefer to try out something else.” That would piss Brianna off for sure; he could practically hear the lecture that would follow, about how Achilles hadn’t bothered him for a solid two weeks - at least, not in any way that either of them could control - and he shouldn’t let it prevent him from living his life. Now that the other was leaving him alone, there wasn’t much need for Pat to go out of his way to avoid him, right?

Wrong.

Ever since he’d shown his cruel side to the football team, threatening to get Achilles expelled, he’d ended up with quite a few narrow-eyed looks and whispers down the hallways. He feared that soon enough he'd have to come face to face with the mistake he’d made.

The worst part was that this _thing_ didn’t seem content with just leaving it at the words. Instead, dreams kept bothering him, ones that focused less on their surroundings and more on the boy that he was with. His smile, his graceful movements as he sliced through water as a knife would through butter, the warmth of his lips… The latter never made Pat feel particularly well.

*********

Brianna was indifferent when Pat breached the topic to her. For her, the only reason why she thought Pat shouldn't do it was that Pat didn't want to. She wasn't going to simply disregard his feelings. Pat had looked slightly insulted when he realized this. He thought that _at least_ Brianna would understand it, how anything paranormal couldn't mean anything good? Had they not watched enough horror movies to realize it?

"I don't know, Pat," she had muttered gently after class had just ended, the people around them standing up. "I can understand you feeling uncomfortable with the idea, and I respect that, but... Maybe you'd be able to solve this if you actually payed some attention to it? You don't even want to _try_ anything related to it, I'm starting to think a part of your discomfort is just secretly that you don't understand it?" Brianna had a point there, not that Pat would admit it. Hah! Not in a thousand years would he admit that part of his frustration was that he couldn't figure shit out!

Ever since he’d made the list of words, Pat had looked at them again and again and again, googling some of them, but usually stopping after about two words in. It felt.. secret, intimate. He hadn't wanted it to show up in his internet history, lest his parents of all people find out about it.

"You're just curious yourself, aren't you?" Pat had snapped at her before he could really stop himself. "You just want me to give in so you can know for yourself!"

Brianna did look a bit shocked at that, her mouth hanging open, but before Pat could apologize, she narrowed her eyes. "Maybe I am! So what?! This is so, so.. weird! It's bizarre that this is happening, and I want to solve it! Maybe I'm being selfish by thinking of how it's bothering me as well, but there's nothing wrong with that if it's also gonna help you!"

Pat got red-faced, avoiding her gaze and honestly ashamed of falling out with his friend like this. "Okay, _okay_ fine. I understand, it's just.. it's taking its toll, Bri." She calmed down slowly, sighing as she stood up.

From then on, Pat tried to avoid the topic as much as possible, and Brianna kept quiet and only briefly held his hand whenever he met eyes with Achilles.

  *********

Pat had expected that maybe, as time passed, things would go away. He would forget about those dreams, and the words would disappear from his mind like it was all just a bad memory, but they did not.

Actually, things became worse after he'd let it fester without any sort of attention for over two weeks. It was scratching at the back of his mind, like a hungry cat begging for food. It only grew worse; it became desperate, as if it had a mind of its own.

The first major change made itself known on a Wednesday morning on his way to school. His eyes had only briefly closed, but he could've sworn that the bus seat beneath him had changed into a moss-covered rock in the sun, the warmth drying off any water that had remained from his swimming adventure.

When Pat opened his eyes though, the feeling left just as quickly as it came, and he was right there on the bus, thoroughly confused. This one scared him far more than the others did, for it wasn't really a vision, but real feelings this new thing played with, and as it had been similar to the dreams...

He feared that if they were any similar to his recent dreams, it wouldn't be long until Achilles appeared in them.

Luckily, the ones that followed were similar to the first hallucination and Achilles was nowhere in sight. Sometimes, Pat wondered how often he could go to the same spot with it ever feeling different. In this weird second dimension, how often would he have spent time there? It would be warm, sometimes, the moss would be softer and thicker, and sometimes it wouldn't even be there. One time he'd snapped out of it with the aftertaste of honey on his tongue - enough said, that particular one had scared him.

Pat breached the topic to Brianna after the third time it happened, his body language timid. Brianna had caught him in that state, and apparently thought he'd just fallen asleep during class. She murmured a soft, "Lack of sleep because of the dreams again?"

"No, not really, I think I have a new problem to add to the list." She leaned forward almost instantly. "I sometimes get into this.. trance, it's-"

"Is Achilles in it?"

"Well, it's the same lake we swam in in my dreams but-"

"Did you see him?"

"Let me finish then! No I don't!" Pat exclaimed, sighing and rubbing through his dark hair, it had become a mess. "If whatever you just saw happens again, try to pull me out of it as quickly as possible, okay? I don't want to come over as weird." She nodded, and Pat sighed in relief.

He could always rely on Brianna.

He wondered if all of this would stop if he got closer to Achilles, if he would accept him and figure this out, but with a short shiver he'd remembered how strongly it affected him to be close to Achilles. It had been scary, to feel so different all of a sudden with such a person, a complete stranger. It made him feel as if he’d known him for years.

It wouldn't surprise Pat if Achilles had never heard a no in his life, if he'd never been declined anything by anybody, if he'd never had to put in any real work to get the grades and success he had now. Even if Pat didn't want to, he hated people that were born for success. Everything came easy to them. Sure, it wasn't Achilles' choice to be born like that, but his modesty about it pissed him off more than anything. As if he wasn't aware that he had it easier than most of his peers.

Maybe hearing a no for once would be a good lesson in Achilles' life. He was sure that a spoiled tantrum would follow, but Pat had already lived through enough of those to be prepared for it.

_Yet..._

_Philtatos_

It rolled off the tongue. Sometimes, Pat caught himself mouthing it. The idea of someone genuinely calling him that... He'd be the luckiest person in the world.

Well, with anyone but Achilles, of course. 

*********

The entire thing had become a distraction in his life again, and with all the stress of managing his school work alongside that, he'd completely forgotten about the deadline to sign up for his second volunteering job. He’d realized this on the day of the deadline, and in his panic, as he told Brianna, she laughed. "I knew you would forget!" she exclaimed, and to Pat's confusion, she took his hand and pulled him towards the overfilled lists of messy student handwriting. Some were only half-filled, those being the least popular options, and Pat stared at an available list for the cleaning crew, already sighing in defeat until Brianna snatched it away, pointing at one of the other lists. "I didn't wake up at 8am just for myself, you idiot,” she whispered as she pointed at one of the most popular lists, the paper crumpled from the way students had obviously fought for a spot.

He narrowed his eyes. "The Medieval Fair?" he read out, and Brianna nodded proudly, wrapping an arm around him.

"Sure, I could have waited until you fucked yourself over, but isn't it far easier to sign you in and scratch it out if you don't like it?"

Pat read through the list. He was happy with Brianna keeping him in her thoughts... Until he got to one of the names at the top, recognizing the handwriting. "Achilles is also volunteering for this,” he muttered softly, and Brianna nodded, a tense silence falling between them.

"We won't see him as often, I promise we'll do a food stand or whatever. That's an entire twenty meters away from any recreational activities, and we both know he'll be there."

The thing was, Pat hadn't seen Achilles quite as often in the last two weeks as he’d feared. The way Achilles had respected his wish for distance gave him doubts. He _hated_ the thought, but in some ways, it felt as if he had treated the other too harshly. Achilles might have invaded his space, pursued him even after everything that happened, but surely there wasn’t a true social etiquette for how to treat the person you get visions and weird flashbacks of?

In a horrible moment of curiosity, Pat glanced at her. "What is _he_ doing then?"

"Sword fighting."

Ah, Pat remembered how Achilles had asked if they may have known each other from that. It didn’t come as a surprise that a person such as Achilles also had a most violent hobby.

Or, at least, that's what he told himself.

He looked back at the registration lists. He’d always liked the medieval fairs, yes. And it was less likely that they’d meet if Pat was busy all day with the stand while Achilles was busy teaching young kids how to bash each other's heads in with wooden sticks.

He turned to Brianna, giving her a genuinely pleased smile. "Thank you, I'm sure it's going to be lots of fun."

It was official, he could always rely on Brianna.

*********

The most tedious thing about their volunteering program was the mandatory job orientation that all students outside of the cleaning crew had to attend two days before the fair on Friday. The teachers apparently thought they had a huge liability over their heads during the entire medieval fair, but for most, including Pat, this would be okay. Only, it would’ve been, if Pat had remembered this part of the process when he’d accepted to be in the same volunteering group as Achilles.

He sat about two rows in front of Pat, the classroom filled entirely with pleased students who had been quick enough to sign up. Pat could’ve ignored it, if it wasn't for the peculiar realization that he could sense the other's presence now; it felt nagging, as if someone was staring at him. Achilles wasn’t really able to do that, though he did notice how the other turned his head just a little bit more than necessary as he talked to his friend, probably to catch a glimpse of him as well. 

Of course, Achilles could probably sense him too!

He settled against Brianna with a sigh halfway through, demanding some comfort, and she gave it by briefly stroking through his curls. It made his eyes close.

When he opened them again, though, he wasn't in the classroom anymore. He was perched upon the moss-covered rock again, and he cursed internally in fear of cursing out loud while in his trance back in the classroom, a classroom that seemed miles and miles away now.

One of the feelings that hadn't changed was the stroking through his hair, though the touch was rougher, stronger and far more in detail, his scalp being massaged. It confused him. Before, no other aspect of his original spot would have gotten through, so why-

He wished he hadn't looked up. Above him, on the flatter surface of the stone, Achilles was lying on his chest, a hand reached out to disappear from his point of view to rest in his hair. As he looked, the other smiled, and the fluttering in his stomach returned.

An unpleasant ache in his head forced him back into reality, and he cringed as he closed his eyes.

The vision was gone when he opened them again, Brianna looking at Pat with a worried gaze. "Hey! You okay?" she whispered. The teacher was still going over instructions in the background, and Pat needed a second to get used to his surroundings again, eyes going to Achilles who quickly turned himself back to face the board. He had been staring at him, for how long?

He just kept staring at the other's back, trying to shake the feeling off him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to experience that again. Well, until he’d notice who the person was, of course. "Did you see what Achilles was doing when you woke me up?"

Brianna looked at him with hesitance. "He, uh..."

"Bri.."

"As much as I could tell, he got shocked awake when you did, did you feel him?"

Pat blushed, and lied. "I did not, luckily." He wondered if Achilles had been on the other side of that vision, or maybe, their visions had been different. Maybe Achilles had his hair stroked by Pat, or he could’ve had something entirely more explicit and intimate. The idea made him shiver.

He hoped that the other didn't have high expectations of what may follow.

Pat reclaimed his usual position, then proceeded to listen properly to the rest of the instruction, Brianna helping him catch up with whatever he had missed.

*********

That Friday, Pat had to be at school two hours earlier than normal, and he did so without lots of issues. Luckily, he’d convinced himself that late nights and early mornings were not the best combination. Brianna was, unfortunately, not as smart as he was. As he greeted her, she held a cardboard cup in her hand, and she grunted in response. Before anything, they had to go through an entire 'makeover' where both were forced into farmer's outfits. Pat preferred it over the knight outfits some of the other guys got, but they'd mostly be stationed at the activities. He and Brianna were selling... What was it again? Ah yeah, candy. _Ye Olde Candy_ , how ridiculous.

Around nine, when the sun decided that it was time to actually function, the first visitors of their school started streaming in to take a look around. Although some students had class, the teachers couldn't stop them from getting pulled in. Pat remembered the previous years of the fair; he'd usually been one of the only kids that remained loyal to the teachers. 

Sometimes, kids he recognized came over and bought some candy, usually candy apples,  which quickly became the most popular snack of their stand. They had to smile and wish them all a good day, which gave him a sore throat before even noon as they had to shout over the sound of the music club's performance, who played entirely the wrong songs for a medieval fair; surely Toxic wasn't a fitting song for medieval times, but they were skilled enough to make it sound like one. The band was about two stands next to them, all dressed in harlequin outfits which he found amusing to look at. Pat was happy that he had one of the most normal-looking outfits there. 

"So, if you lived in that time, what would you be?" It was a bit into the afternoon. Most kids now came for lunch, visiting the other food stands instead of their candy stand, so they had a brief break to talk.

"Medieval times?" Pat thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know, a farmer sounds okay to me."

Brianna didn't seem satisfied with his answer though, twirling so that her long and heavy skirt swished around her. "I'd be royalty! A princess!" Pat smiled, surely that was one of the best things to be in that time.

"Waiting for your prince charming?" She showed her tongue to him, and Pat laughed. "I just hope I wouldn't be forced to be a knight, I would dislike fighting, unlike-"

"Yeah yeah, you haven't even seen him!" Brianna clearly wasn't in the mood for another bothered rant about Achilles out of him. She smirked. "You'd be a doctor, I think!"

"A doctor? Brianna, surely there wasn’t any proper health care back then, they had the plague for a reason!"

She only laughed though, shaking her head. "You'd be the best!"

"Only if I had a really good teacher."

"So what if you did?"

Pat was smiling again, shrugging. "Then I'd be a good doctor."

"The best."

"Okay, I'd be the _best_ doctor."

Brianna, now satisfied, moved to the back of the stand. "I think I'm gonna get some lunch, can I get you anything?" 

When Brianna returned holding a delicious turkey leg for Pat, she was smiling softly. It confused him, especially since she was so vague in answering his question when he asked about it. "Go to the recreational activities, you'll see."

She knew what she was doing, of course. Pat had promised himself to not even glance anywhere near the sports field where the recreational activities were being held, but now that Brianna had done that.. his mind kept going back to what could’ve possibly been going on over there. Nothing particularly interesting, he thought as he sold a lollipop to a first-grader. Maybe a calligrapher, or some fake chemist that pretended to be a medieval wizard. How accurate was their school willing to be?

Brianna succeeded in making him frustrated, though. She didn't bother to relieve him of his curiosity, only encouraging him to go see for himself, and soon enough, Pat threw her the keys to the money tin. "I'm gonna go walk around a bit." And he pointedly _did not_ look at that self-satisfied look she was giving him.

Of the few hours it’d been since the fair officially started, it may have been the worst time for him to take a break. It was filled with students and parents alike all milling about in a speed far too slow for Pat, who was now getting impatient to find out why Brianna had smiled so mischievously at him. There was a lot that could have triggered his interest; the calligraphy tent with art students who did the most amazing lettering of names of kids that visited their spot, the dancing tent with the most magnificent and upbeat music that made even Pat willing to dance to it, and this lovely fake first-aid stall filled with medieval instrument props. He recognized the kid working the stand from his biology class, and as the kid recognized Pat, he offered to give him a free dismemberment, which made him uncomfortable although he knew it was a joke.

"No thank you, I think my arms and legs are fine where they are." Pat laughed and continued on to another part of the activities, the only part he hadn't seen yet. It was a big open field sectioned off with wooden fences, and upon getting there the only thing you could really see were spectators' backs. Very popular, it was, and as Pat came closer he realized why; this what was glorified back in medieval times. The fighting, the violence, and he found himself confused. There were so many things that could have been oh so interesting to him, surely there must have been something particular Brianna had been thinking of? She’d known him for a very long time, and had to have known that Pat particularly despised violence; he'd rather be the doctor than the cause of someone needing one.

_I am very confused, what should i see?_

**Are you at the battling grounds?**

_Yes i am._

**On the left side, a small group with swords, try to focus on the one with the red tunic.**

Pat did as he was told, and was, of course, not surprised to see Achilles there. Well, he wasn’t surprised to see him there, but he was surprised to see how he was dressed. While Pat had gotten the plainest and most unflattering costume in the history of medieval outfits, Achilles was the opposite, dressed like a knight, a warrior. His curls were bound together with an elastic that barely tamed it, and his football jersey was now switched for a tunic in dark red with an unusual emblem on it. For a moment Pat could understand why people glorified war. If this was the embodiment of it, he would too.

Achilles was either not aware that someone was staring at him, or he was just too busy helping younger students with their techniques to notice. A small group was gathered with him, each with a wooden sword in their hands, carefully hitting each other on their sides or on their chests. When they got too enthusiastic, he could even hear the other warn them, his voice patient and kind. Pat was growing unable to find a way to excuse his dislike towards him.

He was only able to force his attention away from the knight when the announcer close to him suddenly echoed, "Ladies and gentlemen! The annual jousting championship is about to begin! There have been many registrations, _some a bit surprising_ , and we're ready to see what they have planned for us! Who will be the winner and get the eternal glory? Who will be the champion? Let's start with naming the contestants!"

He didn't recognize the excited voice, glancing back to Achilles who seemed to have ignored it. Surely he would have registered for something like that, right? Or did he feel like it would be unfair if he joined in? Probably. Pat wouldn’t be surprised if that was really the case.

He moved closer to the battling area to see how they were going to play it. Surely, using real spears and horses would be far too dangerous for a few high school students? In one corner, on a wooden table, he could see bulky blue and red suits filled with some kind of foam. That must have been the protective gear. They looked tough to move in. In another corner, he could also see a few stick-like replica weapons, the ends of them blunt and obviously also made of foam. They would be used to force the opponent off their ‘horse’, which, in this case, must have been determined by a loss of balance or by pushing them out of a certain ring. From the corner of his eye he saw some of the contestants gather in the arena as their names were called out, recognizing some of them as friends of Achilles. Footballers, he was lucky that he wasn’t competing.

Well. At least. That was what he had thought.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the mention of his name, looking around to find who had called out to him. People generally didn’t notice him, but now, quite a few eyes were turned in his direction.

A shot of panic went through him when he realized it was the announcer that had called out his name. Then he was being pulled onto the field by a few footballers. He hadn’t registered, would Brianna have done that? It would explain that smirk she had on her face when she’d told him to go check out the event, but, she wouldn’t do that to him, would she?

“Hey Pat! Nice you’re joining us, ready to fight?” one of the footballers asked after Pat had stammered an excuse. There was a pleased tone in the guy’s voice, and suddenly, Pat’s eyes narrowed.

_Was this Achilles’ revenge?_

From all around him, people showed their support by applauding loudly. Someone like him registering for this - dressed in a farmer’s costume, tall and clumsy - took a lot of bravery, right? “Give this brave hero another round of applause everybody!” he could hear the presenter say, and as Pat’s face flushed, he realized that there was no going back. Turning his back on all of these people would leave him with a negative reputation, a weakling, so Pat walked with them, though his steps wavered. He wouldn’t let that happen, he'd show these people what he was made of.

He was about fifth in the queue, and he was set to battle two people who were already far more fit and trained for this than he'd ever be. He could tell, one of his future opponents just knocked someone down with one swift push to their chest. Pat cringed. That must have hurt, even if he'd landed on grass.

The second two battling each other were very tied in strength, both almost forcing each other to the ground multiple times, but every time they would regain balance and a new round would start. Pat didn’t even focus on the commentary, he only focused on the heavy weight in his stomach as nerves overtook him. How was he not going to become the biggest failure of the entire competition? About ten minutes in, one of them finally went down with a loud applause from an audience that had nearly doubled in size while he wasn't watching. He could see some people stare at him, curious as to what he was doing there. He couldn’t have been a fighter in their eyes. Instead of cringing at the way the other went down, Pat felt his stomach jump, his head awfully light as he moved towards the table to put on the protective gear.

He may have looked cool and collected from a distance, but really, he'd been asked if he was feeling okay from the guy helping him secure the costume in place. He had to force back the sarcastic reply on the tip of his tongue, for the guy had seemed genuinely concerned.

_No I’m not okay, I’m about to start a match against someone twice my size, and I’m probably going to be the first person who gets lethally harmed by a blunt object made SPECIFICALLY not to harm me._

“I’m-I’m going to be fine, otherwise I wouldn’t have registered for this, right?” he muttered, and although the guy hadn't seemed entirely reassured, he allowed Pat to move to his spot, holding the spear in his hands, copying how he'd seen the winners hold it.

He was going to lose.

He wasn’t going to be tough to beat, he thought. He was just going to let this jock throw him down after two moves (optimistically, though Pat figured he could deflect at least one attack) and be done with it. It would be a proper loss, leaving him with his pride intact. Whatever was left of it by then.

He glanced around at the crowd as they cheered, just in the brief few seconds where the presenter was counting down.

_“Are the champions ready?”_

_“Three...”_ His stare fell on a person in the crowd, a curious expression upon his face as he spotted Pat ready to fight. Achilles, with his blond curls now loosened, and he seemed genuinely surprised. Maybe he had nothing to do with this then? He narrowed his eyes at him.

 _“Two...”_ Achilles noticed it, staring right at him. It was the first time a word hadn't popped up.

And then the bastard _smiled_.

The hands around his fake spear tightened as he looked back at his opponent. Achilles was pleased with his situation.

 _“One....”_ He was going to win, if only to get that grin off his smug face.

_“GO!”_

A cheer from the crowd as the footballer ran full force at him, and although Pat was excited to prove Achilles wrong, there was a flare of panic in it. He could barely afford to jump away. As the footballer came closer and closer, he only had a brief moment to decide.

_Left!_

He deflected his impending doom by barely an inch, letting out a surprised gasp.

_“Whoa audience! It seems like this newbie isn’t going to make his next win easy!”_

No he wasn’t at all.

The two were moved back to their starting spots, and now with a regained confidence, Pat squeezed the stick in his hand, his knuckles going white.

His turn now.

There was a new countdown, but Pat didn’t even focus on the crowd, his eyes narrowed with the smallest focused smile ghosting his lips.

Then, as the starting sound was given, they both ran full force towards each other. Pat was laughing softly at the battle cry the other let out. He thrusted the spear-like weapon, and it grazed against the others’ side with a force that made him stumble. But it wasn’t enough to bring him down.

He cursed internally. A missed chance, for now the other was angry. Nonetheless, Pat wasn’t going to let himself lose. He'd become a new character in this match, the underdog, and damn, people sure did love the victory of an underdog.

They started again, and at first, Pat was certain he was going to redo the same move, hit the opponent harshly enough to bring him down, but the other had learned from his mistakes, and with a strength that forced the breath out of him, Pat went to the ground.

The feeling was entirely different than what he had expected.

The blunt instrument didn’t feel blunt anymore. Instead, he could swear that something cold and sharp had pierced his stomach, a nauseating pain causing him to whimper loudly.

 _It hurt._ He couldn’t remember ever feeling something so overtaking, his breaths coming in short gasps as he laid there on the ground. It felt as if someone had used a real spear to attack him.

Actually, he couldn’t think of anything that felt more like dying than this. He was cold, shivering, his heart thumping in his chest.

He could've sworn that he heard someone scream in absolute horror, if it came out of his own mouth or someone else's wasn’t clear.

He didn’t have much time before another gut-wrenching pain near the same spot went through him, forcing the pain deeper through him, and as the edges of his vision slowly blurred, there was no warmth or pleasantness as a new word shot through his head.

_Achilles._

*********

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he finally regained consciousness. He would've rather just lost it again, honestly. His body was aching, his head was banging with a very strong and sharp headache, and there was still that nagging sensation in his stomach.

His breath hitched.

_His stomach._

He was going to check out the damage. It couldn’t have looked good, right? Raising his costume carefully, he inspected his skin. Flawless, no indication that anything had pierced it or harmed him. It was genuinely confusing. Then what had caused that pain? He was still shaken by it, letting himself fall onto the soft surface again and taking a few deep breaths to try to get his mind back in order, eyes falling shut.

When he opened them again a minute later, he was able to focus on his surroundings better. He was in a bed at the nurse's office, near the end of the room which had the most privacy. He had no doubt that a lot of curious students had tried to peek in to see how he was doing, and he was glad he was not made a spectacle again.

He didn’t even want to think about how this story was going around school.

Footsteps slowly approached after a moment, Pat only just hearing the whisper of fabric against fabric as the person moved, and he was about to sit up to greet who he assumed was the nurse to check up on him when he heard them stop one bed next to him, a gentle voice softly breaking the silence of the room.

Was there someone else there? Had someone else gotten hurt?

“Hello, how are you doing now? Deep breaths like I told you, okay?”

He didn’t hear the other respond in words, technically, but he did hear their breathing get a bit heavier, then there was the soft sound of a cup being set down on a table before the footsteps left again.

Carefully, Pat crawled back a bit in his bed to peek between the iron pole and the curtain to see who his neighbour was, whoever hadn't sustained any physical injuries. It was Achilles, hunched over and turned away from Pat’s bed, his shoulders rising and falling in rapid movements in the rhythm of his breath.

There was.. something different in his demeanor. In the last couple of months that he had known Achilles and had been conscious of him, he'd never shown anything less than the utmost confidence in himself. Now, even if Pat could barely see anything, he could tell that there was a significant change.

Achilles must have experienced the same thing he had.

Even if looking back on the event was mentally exhausting, Pat did remember the gut-wrenching scream he’d heard just before he'd lost consciousness, and now it wasn’t a mystery anymore as to who it had come from.

Nervously, his movements slow enough to not break the silence of the room, Pat walked over to check up on him. He needed whatever warmth and security he'd felt last time they had been close, needing that comfort like a leech needing blood, but as he finally stood right there in front of Achilles, it only caused discomfort and guilt to wash over him.

Achilles was.. small. It looked like he'd gotten significantly younger, knees folded up between his arms with blank eyes looking forward at the white wall, his face about the same shade. His lips were parted, still breathing like the nurse instructed, and Pat needed some courage to actually break the silence, afraid that any sudden action would do him serious harm. "Achilles.”

His eyes finally went back into focus, looking right up at Pat, then an even stronger tension fell between them. “Patroclus," the other said, and Pat didn’t even dare to correct him, carefully taking a step closer. Instead of the hurt animal behaviour he'd expected where Achilles would've crawled away, he turned towards him, arms unfolding to be put behind him, leaning back on them.

Pat examined him, and even now, the guilt didn’t go away. “You were screaming during it, weren’t you?” he asked. A glazed look fell over Achilles’ eyes, making him regret it instantly. Even _if_ Achilles had been the one to sign him up for the jousting competition, he didn't deserve what he was experiencing now. Nonetheless, the other nodded weakly in response. It had been another hallucination, just like the hair stroking and the sitting on the stone, another thing he'd physically felt, and the theory that it had only gotten so strong because Pat had avoided this entire matter for too long was entirely plausible. That didn’t make it any easier for him. It meant that he could've avoided all this from happening. He could've stopped fighting his instincts, then neither of them would've had to suffer like this.

“Did I die in yours?” he urged to ask, and he could feel the other’s gaze focus on him again. It was the first time he'd admitted to having a shared hallucination with Achilles, and he wasn’t even sorry for it. It had been long enough, he was giving in.

“You died with a spear in your stomach, I found you looking up into nothing, I-”

Pat could pinpoint the exact moment that tears welled up in the other’s eyes, and he briefly hurried over, kneeling in front of him. The only thing Pat could really do was assure Achilles that he was okay. He'd done it to himself, and he'd do it with Achilles.

“Pointer finger and index finger, here.” He offered out his wrist, putting the two fingers on top of his pulse, and within moments Achilles' upset breaths calmed down, the hand that had first tried to shakily brush away the tears now stilling, and in the brief moment of silence, Pat understood. His pride and stubbornness was ignored for now; when an arm reached out to seek physical closeness, Pat gave it to him, crawling onto the bed and letting Achilles pull him into his arms, ignoring the way his warmth made his own skin heat up. The ache in his stomach, the panic that had flared up, and all the bad it had caused slowly disappeared, only to be replaced with comfort. He'd finally given in, and actually, it felt good, nothing at all like he'd feared.

“Hey, I want to apologize for how rude I was, before. Just like me, you wanted to.. figure shit out. I now understand these are the things that happen if I ignore it for too long,” Pat whispered, feeling the steady rise and fall of Achilles’ chest with each breath. “I want you to know that I lied, about all of it, I did experience most of what you did, and it took me a damn while to get used to it. But I think I’m ready to figure this out with you, if you still want to and you aren’t mad, of course.” He didn’t know if Achilles would blame him for this shit, for making that awful hallucination a thing, but as he awaited an answer, he only felt the fingers on his wrist tighten, being pulled further against Achilles’. He smelled so pleasantly of cedarwood and figs.

“Patroclus..” he whispered softly just for the sake of it, and Pat nodded, a shiver briefly going through him at how right it sounded coming from him, how at home he felt.

“So, you in?” he asked, and it took a little bit of time before the other responded. Achilles seemed to have been stalling, to try getting more time to cuddle with Pat, but he wasn’t about to complain, it felt like this was exactly what he needed right now.

“Yes.”

Hallucinations, words popping up in his head, weird limbos of feelings… It would all be solved soon enough. In the meantime, he’d do whatever he could to make sure Achilles wouldn't be harmed like that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter and you want to let me know or if you have any questions, don't hesitate to send me an ask on my [Tumblr](http://achilltatos.tumblr.com/)!  
> Also, Kudos and comments are appreciated, they make my day <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out this lovely fanart of chapter two of Lux made by the lovely Achillogy!](http://achilltatos.tumblr.com/post/120249257543/achillogy-philtatos-achilles-body-language-had)  
>  Thank you all so much for all the lovely responses to this fic, it honestly makes my day to read the comments and get notifications of y'all giving kudos! <3  
>  **Brianna**

For Brianna, it must have been quite a hectic day at Ye Olde Candy after Pat had left to go ‘walk around’. Pat’s long break hadn’t been a problem at first, of course, but then soon enough ten minutes turned into thirty minutes, and thirty minutes turned into an hour, and still, there was no news from Pat’s side.

**Where are you? Sorry if i upset you about Achilles, but i thought you had to at least see him in that outfit!**

“Brianna?”

She was forced out of her thoughts by a teacher standing in front of the stall, then she quickly put away her mobile and smiled at him. “Hi! Sorry, I was just distracted. Pat has...”

“Ah yes, that’s exactly what I came here to tell you,” the teacher interrupted, calling over two students whose jobs were done for the day as they’d been the ones to organize the earlier recreational activities. “Pat has become unwell after participating in a jousting match, he’s in first aid.”

Brianna paused, her lips parted. She was stuck thinking of an appropriate response to that; where she’d first thought that Pat was holding a grudge against her for pushing him back into Achilles’ proximity, she now knew that he’d messed up so badly with his clumsiness that he he’d been brought into first aid.

“These students are going to take over your shift so you can go visit him.”

Brianna scrambled up, grabbing her stuff and almost dropping her phone in her hurry, thanking the teacher as she left.

*********

Achilles had tried dragging out the hug for far longer than Pat had thought would be considered socially acceptable, but he still didn’t dare to complain.

When they finally parted, Pat didn’t move back to his own spot, instead sitting at the end of Achilles’ bed and waiting for him to break their silence. He still felt uncomfortable with discussing the situation that they were in, but he could do light chit chat.

Luckily, Achilles soon opened his mouth to speak. Pat barely needed to do more than nod. “So, you know how I was like, training those kids, right? Well, I did sword-fighting for a while when I was a kid, just for something to do, you know how most kids like to try everything out when they’re young.”

“Uhuh.”

“In the three hours I was there, two kids got into a fight that ended with the one on the ground crying, another kid asked me to fight him, and when we did he basically ran into my sword as if he were committing suicide, and one was too nervous to even pick up the sword! Can you believe that?”

Pat could believe it. It was exactly the reason why he hadn’t picked recreational activities. Well, that, and Achilles had chosen to do it, and at that point he’d been doing everything in his power to avoid him. Now, Pat realized, that even though he was still nervous and still felt far too stripped of his basic defences in front of such a stranger, Achilles was pleasant to be close with. It was easy chat, not something that he had to think through his responses for; it was exactly what he needed to get his mind off of things. He feared walking out of this room, to remember whatever happened on that field, to feel the pain of cold metal piercing his abdomen again…

For now, just Achilles. That was good.

“So, what did you do today, then? Weren’t you volunteering, too?”

Pat looked up. He’d been a bit lost in thought trying to pinpoint _why_ Achilles felt just so immediately likeable, trying to think of why he’d disliked the other before; he didn’t have an answer. “Oh I... I worked at an old-fashioned candy stall.”

Achilles smirked. “Ye olde candy?”

Pat hid his face in his hands, which caused the other to laugh. It honestly sounded like music to his ears. “Oh my god do _not_ remind me of that horrid name.”

“Hey! I thought of that with my friends!” Pat looked at the other, raising an eyebrow, but couldn’t keep up the disappointed gaze for long, as Achilles was giving him his most smug smile, and it wasn’t long until Pat cracked a smile as well, looking away.

Suddenly, their little bubble of isolation popped as the door opened, and Pat looked up when he heard his name being called by a shrill, panicked voice. “Pat!”

Achilles seemed curious as well,  moving back to his spot; Pat hadn’t even noticed that the other had been shifting forward during their conversation. As a dark-haired girl with wide eyes finally appeared in their secluded little room, she paused. It must have been quite a sight, the two of them sharing a bed after being stereotypical enemies for so long. She frowned. “Okay, so they warned me to be calm because of your situation, but what the _hell_ is going on here?”

Pat’s smile faded just a bit. He glanced at Achilles, who waved at her briefly. “Hello! It’s Brianna, right?” She glanced at him, tasting the clear calm mood in the room, knitting her eyebrows together.

“We, uh. We kinda talked it out, after what.. happened,” Pat explained, which made Brianna only more confused as she switched her gaze again. Ah, she hadn’t heard the word go around then. Good. Maybe, if Pat was lucky, the school wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. But then again, their candy stall had been far away from lots of the other activities, word would’ve only reached her later. “I had another hallucination, Bri. Like that one in class, remember? I got hit with one of the fake swords in the stomach and I just.. went down.” Achilles was listening closely, and as Pat looked back at him, he realized that he owed him an explanation for that. He turned his attention to Achilles. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but after you cornered me in that classroom, I needed a...”

“Confidente,” Brianna quickly filled in, crossing her arms over her chest. There was a brief tenseness in the room, Pat now feeling guilty that he’d excluded the very person he’d been sharing the experiences with.

Achilles was smiling though, raising his shoulders. “Hey, I can understand you’d want at least someone to know.”

After that, though, Pat’s mind conjured up something else for him to worry about, curse it. “Did _you_ tell anyone about it, Achilles?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t.”

Brianna nodded slowly, as if it would’ve been something very socially unacceptable to do. “Good.” The both of them glanced at her, and she smirked. “I’m glad this was talked out, that means you’re going to figure it out now, right?”

Achilles seemed giddy. “Yes!”

“Okay, because honestly, I was getting tired of holding this kid’s hand every time he needed some moral support, dude.”

Pat responded with stammers. "I did not need it, you offered it! Oh my god!" He glanced at the other, expecting an amused smile, but Achilles wasn't smiling anymore, just looking at the girl in front of him.

Strange.

*********

Brianna left soon after that. The nurse had told her that the two of them needed some rest, and actually got quite bothered about Achilles and Pat sitting on one bed. The only way the words had no grip on the situation was the fact that colour had returned to their cheeks and that Achilles was finally talkative again.

Nonetheless, Pat was told to return to his own bed. As soon as the nurse left, he saw nimble hands work on the curtain between them, pulling it away so that they could see each other if they lie down. Pat didn't object, though his heart started beating a little faster. Constantly having someone like Achilles look at you... It was as if all your flaws were suddenly visible. Pat felt like he needed to be as flawless as Achilles was perceived, which was way harder than acting as if his gaze didn't practically cause him to shiver every time.

They didn't speak at first, until Pat breached the topic. "Are you feeling better? After everything that happened?"

The soft smile disappeared again to make place for something far more bothered; it was obvious that it was still pestering him, and when Pat finally got an answer, he was already promising himself to not bring it up again. "Yeah."

"That's good."

Silence fell between them again, and Pat took the opportunity to turn himself around so that his back was to Achilles instead of his nervous face. Achilles didn’t mention it.

Actually, it took about an hour before the other cleared his throat and broke their silence, and Pat turned around, eyes opening instantly. The other was on his back, he could see his chest move up and down with strong, conscious breaths, probably still following the nurse’s instruction. "You okay?" Pat asked, just to make sure that if anything happened, he wasn't the one Achilles had to rely on; he'd need to call the nurse.

"I'm fine, I was just wondering..." He paused briefly, then his gaze fell to Pat, who was glad that they were a good distance away. "Do you really think we'll figure this out?"

It was a tough question, actually. With all the abnormal things going on, it would be very movie-like to also solve this entire mystery; Pat wondered what a few teenagers could possibly conjure up to explain this. "I don't know, but at least we’ll be able to say we tried. I'm going to do all I can to solve this problem, won't you?"

Achilles nodded eagerly. "Of course."

"Well, together, I'm sure we'll find at least something."

Achilles sat up at that, newfound determination visible on his face. Pat was a bit surprised at the swiftness of the movement. "Let's meet up then!"

The two of them decided on a Wednesday after class in the public library. Then both of their parents showed up within the hour, and it was rather tough to explain what had happened without getting any raised eyebrows.

"Low blood sugar!’ he could hear Achilles say. "I need more candy, dad."

Pat's parents got the jousting accident excuse, because _technically_ he’d gotten hurt by that. They were surprised as to why he'd ever decided to participate in such nonsense.

*********

As Pat feared, word had passed through the school of him fainting during the jousting match, and even Brianna got tired of everyone constantly asking if Pat was okay. Yeah! He was!

At one point he’d even walked into his opponent, who then 'humbly' apologized for injuring him during the match. "I didn't think I slammed into you so hard! I hope you were able to breathe eventually? You were gasping for air!"

This was the first time that others had consciously experienced one of Pat’s hallucinations, and as he’d been writhing in pain looking like he was dying, he must have traumatized at least a couple dozen people. "It had nothing to do with you, truly, I shouldn't have registered if I knew I couldn’t handle a bit of a hit." The obvious _footballer_ knew that Pat hadn’t registered himself for the match, but he didn't dare say otherwise. Instead he nodded, avoiding the other's gaze. Obviously he felt guilty for it now. Brianna was glaring at him.

"Patroclus!" Both of their heads whipped around so quickly that Pat was afraid he’d break something, spotting Achilles hurrying over to him and Brianna with a smile. The other footballer who had come to apologize was suddenly nowhere to be seen, but Pat hadn't noticed, similarly to how he hadn't even noticed about half of the entire football team following behind him. He’d only been focused on the warmth spreading through his stomach when Achilles smiled at _him_. It got even worse as he came closer, placing a firm arm around Pat’s shoulder to turn him around to face the group of jocks, suddenly feeling very exposed, the hairs on his neck standing up when Achilles spoke. Only up close could you hear the gentle roll of his r’s, and the way all his words were spoken so clearly, so consciously. Achilles was smarter than he led on, he was sure. "The team is here to tell you something,” he said smugly, and as Pat looked up at the guys after trying to hide how affected he was by Achilles’ mere proximity, they spoke. Reluctantly.

"We're sorry for registering you for the jousting match without your permission."

It was obvious what the other had done, but as Pat was sure that any complaints would cause them to snap, he thanked them, softly. When the others moved away though, and he felt Achilles start moving his arm away, he briefly leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Thank you."

The other paused with his lips parted, but as soon as he saw Pat smile, he smiled back. "No problem, Patroclus."

_Pa-tro-clus._

"Gotta hurry now, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yes, of course."

The arm around his shoulders disappeared, and as soon as Achilles was out of earshot, he could sense Brianna staring at him, watching how Pat quickly rubbed the back of his neck to get the weird prickling sensation crawling across his skin to go away. "What?" he asked, as she was smirking.

"Oh, nothing! Truly!"

"Bri..."

She laughed as Pat narrowed his eyes at her, holding her hands out in defense. "Let's just say that i was right, you two are very _cute_." Pat's face turned bright red, pushing her away as she chuckled. "Hey! Hey! Maybe you should totally hook up though."

"This is purely for scientific reasons, Bri! After we figured everything out, i don't want to ever see him again."

Still though, the way Achilles treated him felt far too familiar and close. Pat felt that he'd have to warn Achilles eventually how much that closeness was unwanted. Well, that could be done.. later. Possibly way later.

*********

The next day, he had to admit that he was nervous to meet up with Achilles again, and Brianna wasn't helping. After their last class, she even waited for Pat at the lockers to join him to the library.

"No, you're not going with me."

"You've never told me how this even happened! If I'm not there, how can I ever give you moral support!?"

Pat narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't need any, I have Achilles." She seemed almost insulted, and Pat hesitated at first, but then chose to disclose the painful information that he'd withheld from Brianna for so long. "The flashback I had at the jousting match was one of me dying." He said it quickly, hoping that it didn't trigger any reminders for him. It hadn't, but he still couldn't help but shiver anyway, holding onto his own arms for support. Brianna paused, her lips parted in surprise with clear difficulty as to what to say. He answered before she could ask anything, "I'm fine, but Achilles is avoiding talking about it. I don't know if he shared much, he just mentioned to me that he saw my dead body, and he was pretty shaken," Pat continued, then glanced at the clock.

When he returned his gaze to Brianna, she was already gathering her bag, about to leave him with this, but she didn't do so without disclosing information he was sure she'd withheld from him in a grudge. "Uh-huh. Students are talking about it a lot. Apparently, around the time you lost consciousness, he knocked some people out of the way and ran towards you, he got very pissed at the guy that did it to you. It was scary apparently, and then before he could do anything, he just- I don't know, they all describe it differently." Brianna paused again, her lips a thin line. "Try to not bring it up, okay? Be careful with Achilles."

Hah, the biggest question was, would Achilles be careful with him?

"I will."

*********

After getting some food from the café across the street from the public library, Pat entered the building with quite a bit of eagerness, looking around to search for a head of blond curls. His hands were both wrapped around a cardboard cup of tea, clutching it close. He must have been quite a sight, as the young lady at the desk cleared her throat, smiling at him.

"Hello, how can I help you?" she asked, and Pat looked around again, realizing that Achilles was not there. It made him quiet for a bit, stammering. Would Achilles have done this on purpose? Was this another form of payback? Surely not, Pat thought to himself, Achilles wouldn't just let go of the chance to figure this out, would he?

"I... Uh.. I was searching for a friend, curly hair, blond, around my age?" he tried hesitantly, and the lady first frowned in thought. But then, that frown turned into a smile, her red lips just forming for a word, but before she could, two strong arms fell down onto Pat's shoulders, giving him quite a scare as he turned around. He came face to face with the athlete. Achilles should be happy that Pat had been very conscious of his cup of tea.

"Hello! Sorry for coming late, I had to stay after with a teacher for some schoolwork."

Pat was partially angry at Achilles for making him so unnecessarily worried, but surely, the other wouldn't understand and he wasn't about to make a big fuss of it. "We should exchange phone numbers for next time," he said softly. He sipped his tea, glad that his hands had been steady enough to keep it from spilling.

Achilles noticed the tenseness and nodded, letting go of his shoulders. Only then could Pat breathe easy again.

*********

They made their way back to one corner of the library with two borrowed laptops, their heavy backpacks set on the table as they settled in. The library would still be open for a few hours, but Pat didn't want to drag this out any longer than necessary; the topic exhausted him both mentally and physically, and even now in Achilles' vicinity, it was expected to only grow worse. After a long sip of his own cup of coffee, Achilles broke their silence, a cardboard-covered notebook lying open on the table. From his place, Pat could read the title on the page.

**WORDS**

"So, I guess we should start by catching up with all that happened the past few weeks." Achilles shifted the notebook to Pat, who took it in his hands. "These are the words I got whenever I was close to you, do you recognize them?"

It was a big list with around fifty words, some written in a hurry given by the messy handwriting. Pat recognized every single one of them, and leaned forward over the table to avoid Achilles's gaze for a bit until he finally found his voice again, locking eyes with him.

For some reason, it didn't trigger a word this time. "Promise me that this will stay between us, promise you won't make fun of me and please _please_ promise that you'll give me time if something overwhelms me," Pat urged, and Achilles was wide-eyed, swiftly nodding. Pat breathed out of his nose strongly, and then nodded. "These are all the same words I had."

The corner of Achilles' lips tugged up as he took the notebook back, swiftly scribbling some notes in the back of it.

"Do you have all of your experiences written in that book?" Pat asked curiously, and Achilles nodded, eyes gleaming.

"Yep! All of it. Writing it down is always the best thing to do to make sure you don't forget it!"

How ridiculous, Pat thought, surely the other had heard this from a detective series or something. "So, uh... Anything else you want to ask me regarding this?" Pat tried to return the attention after Achilles had been caught up in the notebook for a few minutes, obviously just reading through to catch himself up again. Achilles looked up and smiled, tugging his chair further towards the other, the closest he could. Pat wondered how close they would’ve been if the table wasn't in the way. Did he want to know?

"Well, I mean, they may be a bit.. intrusive. Like, of course the feelings you get during it may make you disoriented, and that sucks, but I was wondering how you experience it?" His voice had become high at the end, he was silently begging for the answer that Pat's experiences had been similar. He remembered the way Achilles had responded to the flashback, he remembered a warm flush and a satisfied, long sigh, surely Achilles really loved the sensations.

Unfortunately...

"It makes me feel very very exposed, like the entire school is looking at me doing something embarrassing," Pat said. Achilles' kind smile turned a bit weak, and then he shrugged. "Don't you have to write that down?" Pat voiced it a bit too sharply after moments passed by and Achilles didn't even make a move to do so.

"I will remember." He’d practically spit it out, had Pat upset him?

A silence fell between them then, until Achilles flipped a page, his hand resting on it briefly before offering it out.

**HALLUCINATIONS**

Pat skimmed over most of them as they’d seemed very similar to his own. Then he saw the date of the second to last entry, the one of the two of them perched on the stone, of Achilles stroking through his hair.

_Wednesday ----_

_During the informational class about the medieval fair, after closing my eyes, i found myself near a narrow spring, my hand buried in soft curls. I did not look until the other stirred. It was Patroclus-_

Patroclus. Achilles had never called him anything different, had he? He appreciated him putting in the extra six letters out of stubbornness.

_just turning to look at me, and as i smiled in greeting, comfortable in the sunlight, he faded with a pain in the back of my head._ _When i woke up, i saw he was startled awake as well._

He flipped the page for the next entry, expecting at least.. something.

He was disappointed.

_Friday----_

_Medieval fair, jousting._   
_Patroclus fainted_

He looked up again, noticing that Achilles' green eyes that had been glued upon him before were now looking down at the page.

"Achilles," Pat said softly, but instead of responding, the other just handed him a pen.

"I wrote my part, you may write yours now."

No mention of the occasion, nothing.

Pat started writing, an uncomfortable heaviness in his stomach, the same that had been there before when he'd seen Achilles in the nurse's room, small and curled in on himself.

_Patroclus-Wednesday_

_I closed my eyes only for a moment as Brianna stroked through my hair. When i opened them again, i was on the rock again, her hand switched for another one. When i saw it was Achilles, i got a painful headache and woke up._

_Patroclus- Friday_

_During jousting, i was hit harshly by a fake jousting spear, being pulled into a hallucination in which i was dying. The 'spear' punctured my stomach, i lost consciousness when i felt it turn in there. I heard someone scream._

He handed it back to Achilles, who read the Wednesday entry but didn't even eye Friday's, his lips still a thin line.

Pat felt hesitant, a sudden tenseness falling over them as he scanned the other's face. Suddenly, he realized that the both of them had something that they felt very, very uncomfortable with remembering. For Pat, it was the memory of dying. For Achilles, it was the one of mourning, he figured. For this one, his curiosity was not encouraged by Achilles. That felt foreign.

Emerald eyes met his, and for the first time in about half a week, a new word shot through their minds. He recognized the glazed look that fell over Achilles' face quite well enough. Then, as his hand rested softly on the table after being balled in a fist, the other sighed, noticeably regaining his composure by the rhythm of his breaths. When he spoke again, the smile was back, hands instantly flipping the pages of the past Friday. "Therapon."

It was a statement, but Pat still nodded, then swift hands scribbled it down.

"So. The dreams, then." Pat's response was too quick to hide, instantly looking away with a shiver creeping up his back. Out of them all, the dreams had been the most intimate ones. The problem was, he couldn't separate those sorts of dreams from.. others. He hid his hands under the table as quick as possible without making it seem too panicked, around the same time a firm hand reached out, maybe to touch and comfort him.

Pat may have Brianna, but she had needed about a year before he even allowed her to get close. Why did Achilles think that he, barely more to him than a stranger, was allowed to do so?

"Shall I start? Just tell me if you had any similar dreams, okay? You don't have to bring in anything if you don't want," the other said carefully. Pat hated it, he didn't need to be handled as if he had a fragile sticker slapped across his forehead. He nodded, though. It was still very thoughtful of the other to offer. "Okay, so one of the first I had was at the same spot as the hallucinations, the river. I swam with you, we.. touched occasionally."

"I had that." Pat's response was soft, he wanted it to sound as reluctant as possible to show Achilles that he was not happy with the hallucinations.

Surely, he figured that the other would want nothing to do with him if he found out that Pat had quite some pleasure in looking at guys rather than girls. Achilles didn't even seem affected by the content of the dreams, though, casually continuing, "Okay, so during other nights, it was more like flashes? Most of it was kissing, I assume with you."

Pat nodded once, his shoulders raising. "Yes, it was with you."

A silence fell again. He could see Achilles hurriedly flip some pages, then looking again. "More kisses, more kisses... One with you and me near the river..." Pat hummed to make sure Achilles knew that he had experienced all of those as well.

It continued a bit, but soon enough, they were caught up on shared experiences. Achilles paused. "So, remember how I figured out Philtatos?"

Pat nodded, hoping that his face didn't show any physical response to the word. It still felt pleasant, it still felt so so good to hear it come from Achilles, who was now hidden behind his laptop, obscuring Pat's view of his body and leaving only his neck and face. _Pity._

"I googled and translated some words. Most have to do with Ancient Greece, of course, or with their mythology during their prime." Pat nodded; he had always liked classic history.

Achilles rambled on for longer than he’d expected. He'd apparently found more information than Pat ever had in his brief googling sessions, but then again, Pat had been reluctant in his searches. Achilles was obviously not.

 _Phthia_ had been a city in Greece, near _Othrys_. _Elena_ had to do with Paris for some reason, and _Chiron_ had been a centaur, one of the trainers of Heracles, one of the most well-known heroes in all of Greek Mythology.

It had to do with ancient Greece then. Patroclus was confused; even after unearthing all of this information, they still weren't any closer to an actual answer. The meaning of these words wasn't likely to spell out the solution for them, right?

"So, what do you think this will do? Figuring it out? Do you think it will stop this?"

Achilles raised his eyebrows at that, young creases forming on his forehead, and Pat got confused; had it been weird to ask?

"I don't know, I guess we’ll have to see."

Pat got out his own laptop, then, clearly hearing the cue to start their research. With two people, it would be a lot easier to find the information needed, wouldn't it? He looked up a moment later. " _Aphrodite_ is the goddess of love, by the way. You can add that." That one had came to him on a Monday morning, where sleep had still been visible in Achilles' eyes when they’d caught each other in the hallway. But even on a monday morning, that smile was ever-lasting.

He saw Achilles scribble it down.

Pat googled the word that they'd heard just a few minutes ago, needing a few tries to spell it right. To his annoyance, only warehouses showed up, and Pat had to try again.

_Therapon Greek_

The results he had now were more acceptable, and one of them just might have been the definition they'd been searching for. "Uhh... For Therapon, you can write that it's a term for an attendant who voluntarily serves another, like a friend."

Achilles nodded. "Thank you."

Some scattered information was found as time passed. The most interesting one being when Pat had suggested they'd google their own names. With Pat, actually nothing showed up other than previous living people with his name. There was no mention of him in ancient Greece.

With Achilles, though, a reference to the Trojan war was made, the same with Helen. Apparently, a guy who shared his name had participated in the war, but there wasn't much known about the Greeks beating Troy, only that a wooden horse was involved. It was peculiar, as most myths from that time had been found in detail in old scripts and documents. Scientists came to the conclusion that the story on the Trojan war was either a mere myth or only existed somewhere in a script they had not yet found. This was weird as well, because, just like some of the other myths, they were written down after passing from mouth to mouth, and a war story would've been passed endlessly, for glory was something to share.

"Did you try news archives yet?"

Achilles frowned. "What would news archives ever tell us about ancient Greece?"

Pat shrugged. He understood why Achilles was confused. "Well... I mean... Usually, it's big news when archaeologists make new discoveries, or when they find like new art? Like remember that new Van Gogh a while ago? It was _all over_ the internet."

"I don't have access to news archives." Achilles was pouting. It was obvious that he wasn't aware of what exactly the school provided them with on their computers. High schools and colleges usually paid quite a sum of money to give their students some extra resources, and Pat remembered working with one for an essay.

"I'm free around one for an hour or so to go look through the archives, if you are?” Achilles gave him a look, and Pat scoffed; Achilles had such innocence about him. Even now, he was able to find the patience to clarify, “Everyone has databases on their school account.”

Achilles nodded. “Okay, I'm free then, that’s after practice. Where do you want to meet up? Near the sports fields?”

Pat didn’t know _how quickly_ he had to shake his head at that. “It’s easier to meet up in one of the school’s computer labs." He didn’t want to be seen near the sport’s fields with Achilles, nor did he want to take the risk of seeing him practice. God, he wondered when Achilles wouldn’t have such a strong grip on his life. “Let’s meet in room 103, it’s always open. I used to go there with Bri all the time to finish assignments.”

It was getting darker and darker out, but Pat had already noticed the time by the heaviness of his eyelids as he blinked. On the other hand, Achilles showed no visible signs of exhaustion of a full school day and an hour or so of intense research. Did he even experience that mess of emotions and feelings when he got close to Patroclus? Was it heavier on Pat's side? That wasn’t really fair, was it?

They bid their goodbyes, Achilles' notebook just a bit more full now, and the instant his perfect figure was out of his sight, Pat sighed out in relief. He could finally relax again.

*********

The following day though, Pat went right back to square one. The nervous ache in his stomach had returned at the prospect of another meeting with Achilles, and it wasn't made any better with Brianna pestering him about what they'd found without her.

“Come on, spill, what did you guys figure out?” she asked for the thousandth time, low heels clicking furiously besides Pat in an attempt to keep up with his long strides. It was just before class, after a long night in which Pat had trouble sleeping. He was, for once, not in the mood to really explain in detail how much he'd found with Achilles. It would leave Brianna just as disappointed and annoyed as he was, probably.

“Achilles is the name of a warrior in old Greece, he fought in Troy, and most words that pop up in our heads have to do with Greece as well." It was a decent enough summary to get Brianna off his back for now.

She had kept the questions to herself for far longer than he'd expected, but when Pat mentioned to her (rather carefully) that he’d not be joining her during lunch, the explanation of ‘I’m going to do some research with Achilles’ wasn’t satisfying enough for her.

“Why would you need to meet up with him again?”

“We're gonna look through some other archives. Maybe we can access some news sources, see if anybody recently found something about that Achilles.”

“Did you try searching through the library already? Maybe there's a book somewhere, 'cause looking digitally for it is only gonna limit your results, especially if you're looking for old Greek documents.” Brianna was apparently also more useful than Pat had expected.

"No, I haven’t tried that yet, thank you.” It was the truth, and he couldn’t help but bark out a laugh as the other raised her chin and puffed out her chest, obviously very proud of herself.

“So, now that you see how useful I am, when can I expect an invitation to your secret club?” She'd said it lightly, but Pat knew that it was another request join them into whatever research they were doing. Lips that had first barked out a laugh now pursed as he shook his head. For as much as he liked her support, one person seeing how much this entire thing affected him was more than enough.

*********

Pat was five minutes early when he entered room 103, mentally preparing himself of for the athlete to enter the room. Achilles had mentioned that he'd be showing up after practice, so Pat had no idea what to expect. His computer was logged in, a notepad next to him with words that he could maybe search for the most specific results, which he'd brainstormed together with Brianna earlier. He was interrupted by the sound of swift footsteps entering the room, and there he was, Achilles. Pat hadn't seen him yet today, and he couldn’t help but scan him over, luckily too distracted to realize that the other was staring at him too.

“Afternoon, Patroclus! Sorry if I'm late!”

Pat checked the clock, it was 01:01, nothing to really stress about. “It’s fine. I opened the archives, so now all we have to do is type in words and hope something comes up.” He tapped the chair next to him, and Achilles sat down, the strong smell of shampoo wafting over with him, his hair dampened. As if the mere presence wasn’t enough for Pat to bother with, the glow of his skin was now even more notable after his hot shower.

What they had pulled up right now was a newspaper archive that promised to have one of the widest databases internationally. It possessed articles from newspapers all over the world, and it seemed to update at least once a day. If the information was anywhere in the newspapers, they'd find it there.

They started simple, with some general terms.

 _Elena_ seemed to not only be a person captured during the war of Troy, but also a movie from 2012 with lots of press reports. After about 5 pages of press releases about the movie, they gave up and moved on.

 _Chiron_ showed nothing but reports of a new car being brought up onto the market by Bugatti in 2017, adding _Greece_ to it provided nothing but information about the country’s current economic crisis.

It went on and on like that. Most terms they had were very general or were so often used in present day that only filtering the Ancient Greece results was nearly impossible.

Pat grew more and more hopeless after each term turned up nothing, until they were at the end of their list. Only their names were left, and because of the way their search had been going thus far, he didn’t expect much.

Well, he was wrong.

On the second page, Achilles' lips parted to let out a small sound to stop Pat from scrolling further, the headline now catching his attention.

_Vatican releases old documents from Ancient Greece out of their archives to be translated._

He clicked on it. It was a news article of about 200 words, but as he read through it, he could feel a hand firmly grasp his shoulder.

_The Vatican, which possesses the largest collection of old artefacts and documents, has released documents of Ancient Greece to Greek translators in hopes of gathering new information of the classic time and the history of the Roman age that followed and copied most of its beliefs. According to the Vatican, the collection possesses documents that hasn’t been shown to the public for over 500 years. Though some documents are already acknowledged because of multiple copies, word goes that there is also a document in the collection that is similar to 'The Illiad' by Homer, following the Trojan war. There are speculations that this version may be the answer to many historians’ statements that there is more to this myth than originally known. This document, after a brief look into it by one of the many translators who are being put to work to translate the document, would possess more information regarding the hero Achilles, and his importance in the big war of the mysterious Troy._

Near the end of the text, the hand on his shoulder began painfully squeezing him in excitement, and Pat pulled back to get out of it, unable to warn the other or to complain when Achilles broke the silence, eyes wide with a cheshire grin ghosting his lips. “You read that, Patroclus? A document about Achilles! About me! We need to get our hands on that translation!”

Pat glanced at the article again, then noticed there was a reference to the agency that the translators worked for.

He googled it. A website showed up, and although there was no information regarding the actual translations, there was a contact button. He could feel the other’s gaze on him, and that made it just a bit tougher to concentrate on writing an email without typos, his fingers shaking.

“Do you think they’ll reply?” he heard the other ask, and Pat could do nothing but shrug, for he didn’t know it himself.

“It’s the closest we’ve ever been to getting concrete information."

The email wasn’t much, it was just a request from two students. Pat had lied about them having to write an essay on the Trojan war and needing information regarding the new document, together with the wish to hear back from them. Maybe it would work. With only one small article in the media about the translating, it wouldn’t surprise him if their lack of importance wouldn't get them anywhere.

“And now we wait.”

Achilles was frowning again, staying quiet for a bit until he seemed to have found the right words. “So that’s it for today?”

Pat thought about it, glancing at the clock in the bottom right corner of the computer.

Well, they still had some time to do what Brianna had suggested.

“Uh actually, I think we’re done searching through archives...” He saw Achilles’ shoulders slump. “But Bri suggested for us to look through the library for any books about it right now.” At the mention of the girl’s name, Achilles nodded, curtly.

“Ah, your girl is a real smart one.”

_His girl?_

Pat needed a moment to realize what the other was implying, and then, a small smile tugged onto the corner of his lips.

“My girl?” he repeated nonetheless, and for the first time Pat had ever seen, clear insecurity fell upon his face.

“Yeah? The tan girl you’re always with. Brianna? Isn't she your girlfriend?”

He didn’t know how this was more important than the task they had at hand, but he didn’t allow himself to think about it for long, shaking his head with a full smile now. "Brianna and I are close, yes. But we’ve ruled out any romantic things ages ago.” He wasn’t going to tell Achilles why, but he’d figure it out someday surely, maybe when a boy caught his interest…

“Ah okay, sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Pat hid his smirk as Achilles stared back at the screen.

*********

The next day, Pat found himself hurrying through the corridor to follow a dark red jersey and light blond curls. “Achilles!” he called, but the other didn’t seem to hear him at first. There was excitement in his voice, though. They had responded!

By the time he reached the other and grabbed his shoulder to get his attention, he noticed that Achilles had been talking to some teammates, who were now looking at this bundle of excitement before them with curious glances. Though the biggest shock was how much he did not care.

“They responded!” he exclaimed, and the other's face went from mild curiosity to absolute excitement, pulling him towards the first empty classroom they could find and not even excusing himself from whatever conversation he'd been having with his team.

As soon as they were alone, Pat showed Achilles the reply, his heart beating rapidly and maybe for the first time in weeks, he saw the stirring in his stomach as something pleasant, something thrilling and exciting.

_Dear students of --- high school,_

_We are glad to hear that there is interest from younger generations regarding this topic, and we would therefore be thrilled to show you the results of our work._

_To affirm that neither of you will release the information before we do though, we want to request for you to send your full name, address and phone number to us, together with a promise that this document will be for personal use only until we release it to the media._

_Kind regards,_

_Translatlas_

“So that means that we’ll get the translation?” The other asked in wonder, and Pat couldn't nod any quicker, excitement passing between them. “That’s great news Patroclus!” As Achilles spoke, his hand had reached out to grasp Pat's arm gently. His skin sparked up under the touch, it was as if the other had just caressed him.

And with a shock like a lightning strike, Pat found himself away from the classroom again, his bare feet digging in the softness of grass.

A strong and firm hand held his arm now. He could feel the presence of a body behind him, and with the movement of his head to look back, he found a flash of green and a smile as bright as sun. Achilles, it was, though he seemed younger.

“You need to do it like this," the other said, his voice soft, the language foreign but for some reason, he understood. He'd never heard the other talk before in these visions. "Chiron told us, don't you remember?"

He only now noticed the feel of wood on his fingertips, and rope digging in the fingertips on the other hand. A bow, tensed and directed at a moving creature, a rabbit. The other helped him guide the iron arrow to its target, and just before it, he leaned against the other’s chest, finding comfort.

And then he let go of the rope.

He never saw it hit its target. He was back in the classroom again, the glow of the sun now switched for the warmth of the other’s body, where he'd quickly tried regaining his balance after he’d also been leaning back in reality.

“Whoa, you okay?” the other asked, and all Pat could do was nod. It had happened many times before, but this was the first time they actually got to a point where Pat had to talk about it. Achilles made sure that he was back on his feet again and then fished the cardboard notebook from his bag, writing down what happened. “We were hunting, you were showing me how to use the bow, right?”

Achilles nodded.

*********

Achilles had asked Pat if he was willing to share a lunch break with him after that event, now needing to hurry as his class would soon start, and for the first time, Pat was actually not feeling reluctant to spend time with the other.

*********

“Good that we’re communicating like this," Achilles had mentioned later during lunch while filling his mouth with a cheese sandwich, after they'd told Brianna about the hallucination. He had, overall, not seemed bothered by sharing information with her. Brianna seemed partially jealous, though, glaring at Achilles when the other breached the topic of making a new appointment with Patroclus to do more research. Pat had to agree, it wasn't polite and did make Brianna feel excluded, and she didn't hesitate to voice this. "So how about me coming over as well, then? Now that you guys basically told me everything, it shouldn't matter, right? I can help."

Pat had his shoulders hunched at that. It was a nasty way of trying to convince him again. Group pressure.

Achilles didn't seem to be too bothered by Brianna being excluded though, only glancing at Pat. "Would you like her to join in the research?" he asked. His voice lacked tone, it sounded very neutral. Pat appreciated the other respecting his wishes though, shaking his head.

"Not really."

Brianna didn't complain again that day. Then again, she'd kept her mouth shut for the remainder of their break. She only began talking again once Achilles was gone, and her opinion on the athlete had suddenly changed into something negative.

She didn't know that Achilles had more or less won Pat over with the occurrence. She would probably not be pleased to hear that he'd invited Achilles for tomorrow's lunch as well.

Neither of them knew that there was more behind Pat's decision than him simply warming up to Achilles.

He had experienced the pleasure of their connection, and he wanted more.

*********

_Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, a woman is deciphering what could be a revelation in the history of the story of the Trojan war, and neither of the guys will know what’s waiting for them._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little backstory: In this Universe, The Illiad has always been incomplete and doesn't possess the original story of Achilles and Patroclus. It would be the equivalent of that one priest in the Vatican cutting off all the dicks off the statues to censor it.
> 
>  
> 
> Any more questions? Comments about this chapter? Feel free to send me an ask on [my Tumblr](http://achilltatos.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope it was worth the wait, because here is a lovely 9k chapter for you!  
> [If you haven't seen it already, please check out this lovely gif set made for chapter four by Patrvchilles!](http://patrvchilles.tumblr.com/post/121504046416/lux-aeterna-chapter-four-by-ramonaflowersz)  
>  _Pat_  
>  **Brianna**  
>  Achilles

"Catch!"

Pat turned in his seat at Achilles' sing-song warning, and as he opened his mouth, a small piece of dried, sugared fig was aimed perfectly between his lips, leaving the two of them chuckling in delight in the middle of the lunch room. People were looking at them weirdly, even Brianna, who knew that the last time Pat had tried a fig, he’d been very quick in getting the taste out of his mouth.

"Nothing, huh?" Achilles asked, and Pat shook his head, chewing the candy. Apparently his taste had changed; he didn’t think that they were all that bad.

"Uhhh... What are you doing?" Brianna’s tone was low, she was getting tired of not understanding their small communications and tests, and he supposed that they _were_ a bit ridiculous. He and Achilles usually avoided doing those things in the company of others, but sometimes it was just too hard to resist. Achilles looked at Pat to explain; for some reason, Achilles had never felt fond of communicating with his friend, and Pat thought, in amusement, that it was still because of him assuming that he and Brianna were a couple, something entirely impossible with the interests they had.

"We're trying to trigger a hallucination."

The particular activity of throwing figs at each other had been chosen since it had been the subject of Pat’s most recent hallucination. It’d been a Thursday evening after his mum had asked him to buy some more vegetables after she’d forgotten to buy them herself. So yes, there he went, with a grocery bag to get some more broccoli for dinner. He hadn't really expected it when it happened, but when it did, he just allowed it to run its course. Standing around in the fruit section, he passively noticed a basket filled with figs, only to be hurled into a scene he’d never experienced or thought of before, his eyes meeting Achilles', his face still ever so soft with youth. He couldn't be older than eleven. 'Catch!' he had said, only to throw one of the strong-smelling fruits to him, and as Pat reached out to feel the weight of it on his fingertips, he found himself back in the grocery store, one of the employees looking weirdly at him; he must have made the weirdest random movement with his hand to get that look.

"Uh, I was just... Thinking about juggling." And with a brief goodbye, he’d rushed away to leave the shop as soon as possible, ignoring the vibrating phone in his pocket.

He’d talked about it with Achilles, who had suggested, after nothing interesting happening, to try to force-trigger the memories or words, but it didn't work out, not really.

The strong taste of sugared fig still lingered on his tongue about five minutes later, after some soft chatter with Brianna and Achilles, who both mostly used him to get the conversation going. Brianna bid them goodbye to go to her next class, wishing _Pat_ good luck with the entire plan. He didn't really expect Brianna to ever get along with Achilles, but for now, it was enough that she wasn’t hurling insults at him.

And he’d never expected to see the day that he felt comfortably close to Achilles, yet there they were. "So, it's obviously not working," Achilles muttered, rolling one of the soft dried fig candies on his fingertips, wrinkled skin stretching over the soft filling.

"Try again," Pat suggested, and pointed at the bag. "A new one, that one is probably warm already, that’s gross."

So Achilles switched them, pausing. "Hold out your hand." They had already tried that, of course, they had tried practically every bloody way of throwing and catching, how could this possibly be different? He held out his hand, and then, Achilles warned him again. "Catch!"

 

Pat caught it, nothing happened, and the two of them grunted in annoyance, but Achilles just trudged on, his eyebrows knitting together in annoyance. "Lock eyes with me a few times?"

"Shouldn't we get a room for that?"

Achilles laughed; last time they’d done so in public, one of Achilles’ football friends had suggested the very same thing, something that still made Pat a bit flustered. Achilles barely seemed bothered by it, but then again, that smile almost never really faded.

"Good one."

And so they did, only ever breaking their gaze to focus on their food. The lightness in Pat’s stomach stayed. He was barely able to determine if his stomach was full by now with three sandwiches on their way, but it was something he was willing to give up for now. Achilles made him forget more than his hunger; this guy made him forget stress, his surroundings, he’d even made him forget Brianna's name once, which hadn’t pleased her in the slightest.

Nothing happened. Well, nothing special happened, really; they sat there, they ate, they conversed a bit to once again voice their excitement about the translations, and that was it. The only thing Pat really learned this time was how the corners of Achilles' eyes crinkled in a grin during a particularly only moderately funny joke he’d made, and that 'Plan Fig', as Achilles had written it down in his notebook, was a failure. The first one made Pat question, only just a bit, if the lightness in his stomach was really caused by an unexplainable source, or if Achilles' magnetic attraction had simply started working on him. He hoped it wasn't the latter.

As Achilles walked with him towards the lockers, curious eyes followed them once again; he had heard the whispers, and other conversations in other parts of the school were picked up by Brianna's keen ears. They were all asking themselves the same questions: Why was Achilles hanging out with someone like Pat? Why had he swapped his usual lunch spot with the football team with a spot at this guy's table who he’d only found interest in recently? Luckily, they avoided the conclusion Pat feared, that they were together. If anything could make their inexplicable attraction to each other even more awkward, it was that.

"I have another track meet this weekend, are you a regular in the volunteering group?"

No, he was not. He’d actually felt very keen on avoiding the chore that came with it, so he shook his head.

To his surprise, Achilles' smile actually weakened. "Oh."

"Did you want me to come?" Pat was just curious, really. He and Achilles had made a promise to share at least two lunches a week to encourage communication, and ever since it had developed from Pat being an awkward and stuttering mess to him actually being able to form coherent sentences, Achilles seemed to have become unable to resist inviting him to more things. He could understand why that was, mind you, but that didn't mean he would also _work with him_.

"It's an important match, all my other friends are coming, and since it's the spot we got our first real connection, maybe it's also a good spot to trigger another hallucination?" Pat breathed out of his nose, nodding. Achilles was always good at finding excuses. He’d done the same when he’d lacked money on their trip to the grocery store in search of the fig candy, telling Pat how it was 'also his responsibility' and how they ‘were working together for god's sake! He wouldn't cover all expenses!'

There wasn't much homework for Pat to do over the weekend anyway, he could take some time off to gaze at Achilles, especially since that wasn't _entirely_ a punishment. As much as he could admire the athlete’s skills, there was just something unnerving about the thought of sitting near Achilles’ groupies without Achilles himself nearby. Before he could say it, though, it seemed that the other had read his mind.

"My father will be there, you can sit with him."

He mock-considered it, disliking the assumption that he’d feel uncomfortable sitting on his own, but then decided to just let it be. "Sure, he must find it thrilling to sit next to the guy they found unconscious next to his own unconscious son."

A mistake, truly. His smile fell. Achilles was an easy talker all until that came up, the only times Pat had ever seen a vulnerability. He didn't understand why he felt so prideful in being able to bring that out of Achilles, he should find it shameful, no one should feel blessed in being able to get rid of that smile. "He knows about you, Patroclus, there’s nothing to worry about. It's on Saturday, 10am. You'll be there?"

Too early for his taste, but seemingly too late for Achilles' taste; he wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the other woke up early to jog an hour before school, he seemed like that sort of person. Didn't professional sportsmen do so?

"I'll see you there, yes. Let's hope for good weather."

A brief 'see you then!' and Achilles walked away, taking the elevated feeling in Pat's stomach with him, like a sweater slowly unraveling by pulling a thread. It was going to be a long weekend.

He didn't have lots of time before the school bell ushered him to his last class of the week.

*********

**Any plans for the weekend?**

It was almost night by the time Brianna _blessed_ him with that text, after hours of a pretty grudge-carrying silence.

_Achilles invited me to come watch his match tomorrow morning._

He was preparing himself for a grey wall of complaints, truly, but to his surprise, her following text didn't give any of that away.

**Oh lovely, some nostalgia**

Unfortunately, it was short-lived.

**So what are you now, his number one fan?**

_It was the first spot we got our connection, it's the best way of triggering anything._

Maybe he was Achilles’ number one fan. No one else got to sit with his dad, Pat could. That should mean something, right? He began to doubt it, though, wondering if Achilles would even bother hanging out with him again if this weird thing between them were to stop. He didn’t think so.

**Sure, fanboy.**

_Are you planning on ever getting over yourself with this? We tell you everything that happens between us, i don't see why you have a reason to envy anything between us._

He didn't know where the rant came from, but he just needed it, now, behind the phone, the screen, where his voice didn't shake and his shoulders didn't hunch, and where Brianna couldn't give him a glare at any mean word he said. She had some looks that inspired the fear of god, she truly did.

**I don't envy you guys, i'm just pissed off that Achilles decides to only focus on you in the group. Seriously, Pat. If you're ever thinking of starting anything with this guy, he should better listen to you when you tell him to respect your friends. I promised this with my future girlfriends, you promised it with your future boyfriends.**

_He's not my boyfriend._

**Yet.**

_Sure, Achilles the star football player is definitely gay._

**Pat, you've been having very close contact with him, people are noticing and talking about it. Rumours will start spreading, and i think Achilles knew this ages before i did, cause he is /high/ on the reputation pyramid.**

So Achilles didn't mind rumours spreading. Huh, that idea pleased Pat quite a bit, chances of anything happening between them or not.

_I'll tell you how it goes._

There was a soft knock on the door, and on a childhood instinct, Pat hid his phone beneath the blanket, only to blush as his mum entered. He was old enough to use his phone this late in the weekend.

"Hey Pat, just wondering about something you said during dinner..." Only now did he notice a paperback book in her hands, the spine creased and worn, things you could see even in dim lighting. He remembered vaguely that he had filled the silence at the dinner table with ramblings about something he was reading. Well, not really _reading,_ it was something that he was _experiencing,_ but his mother wasn't supposed to know that. "You mentioned someone experiencing things from a different life, but with the same person? It's talked about a lot in some religions, so I looked it up and... Did you consider reincarnation?"

The term was familiar to him, but he had never really considered it as an option. "That wouldn't be possible if the person remembers it, right?"

His mother looked up in thought, a curl of hair falling in front of her face; Pat had gotten most of his traits from her, from the slightly wide nose to the slightly tan skin. She always looked stunning.

"Some people think that some are destined to remember, that the gods want them to. I think that might be the case for the characters." She offered out the book, and Pat took it eagerly.

"It talks about it, it's certainly worth the read."

She pecked Pat's cheek and wished him a good night afterwards, and then he was alone with the book in his hands. It was too tempting to not take a look.

*********

Ten o’clock was far too early for a Saturday morning. Well, it was far too early for someone who stayed up reading a book about reincarnations all night; the alarm on his bedside table finally had a purpose after Pat endlessly waking up right before it could ring, for now it could ring to its heart's content, earning quite an annoyed groan from Pat. Six hours of sleep, roughly, that's what he had gotten, but even then, Pat was too motivated to not crawl out of bed and get ready for Achilles' race. Actually, he was more motivated to tell him about what he'd found.

It was cold again, it didn't seem like it would ever become warm this summer if it kept going like this, but fortunately, he was able to sit beneath the roof of the tribune, dry and pleasantly warm. Achilles was not as fortunate.

Pat was wearing the warmest sweater he could find, together with a waterproof jacket and a thick scarf. All in all, he could practically hear Brianna calling him 'cuddle material', and the very thought embarrassed him. Would Achilles see it like that too, or would he find Pat absolutely ridiculous? Probably the latter, though he expected it to only be translated in a pleased smile, the same he'd worn while listening to Pat stutter over his own words in an attempt to talk to him.

He'd briefly been concerned that he wouldn't recognize Achilles's father, but luckily, the memories of a proud father congratulating his son's victory came back to him when he saw the man in the first row of the tribune, chatting with the athlete himself, in fact.

Achilles noticed him first. If he’d also sensed the electricity of their proximity or not was, as of yet, a mystery, but Pat was happy to just focus on the way that neutral smile turned into a much brighter grin upon meeting eyes. That was something that made this grey day look quite a bit more colourful and warm. "Patroclus!" His father now looked up as well, eyes locking on Pat and scanning over the rain coat and the thick scarf, something entirely different from Achilles, who seemed to be _begging_ for a cold tomorrow, as he had already gotten rid of his sweatpants and jacket, standing there in a brightly coloured tank top and shorts.

"Good morning," he said, his voice just a bit timid in the presence of the other's father. The only external opinion of their behaviour together he'd ever heard was from Brianna, which always got around to 'when's the wedding?' He hoped this man didn't see it like that.

"Ah, Patroclus. Here to cheer for the champion as well, heh?"

"Of course."

There was a moment of silence in which Pat threw a panicked look to Achilles and luckily, the other did not disappoint. "Oh go sit down! Dad has some change for coffee if you want, or some tea, I heard they have Earl Grey! But I.. uh, I gotta go, see you after?"

"Yes."

_Of course._

So Pat sat down, quickly glancing down as Achilles rushed away, too afraid the man besides him would catch him staring at Achilles in other ways than just for the sport. He couldn't shake the feeling that the other _knew._

"Earl Grey, huh?"

The question confused Pat at first. Yes, Earl Grey, why not Earl Grey? But then he realized; the other was simply asking why Achilles had mentioned it.

"It's my favourite tea." Achilles had asked about Pat's favourite tea during one of their many meetings in the library. It was kind of cute that the other still remembered, but then again, Earl Grey was kind of _common_ , who wouldn't like it?

"So, Patroclus-"

"Oh, you can just call me Pat," he interrupted, only realizing it could have been perceived as rude a split second later.

"Such a pity to waste the meaning your parents gave you with that name, though."

"What?"

The man grinned. "Patroclus, Pa-tro-klos, it means the honour of the father in Greek, doesn't it?"

Pat had his lips parted on words he couldn't conjure up; he’d gotten an answer from his parents once before as to why they’d ever consider such a ridiculous name for their child, but they had never given the real answer, he now realized.

"You know more than I do." A brief silence, but then Pat narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"

The other man seemed comfortable with his new company, leaning back in the plastic seat that cracked with age. "My family is of Greek heritage, actually. I mean, my son is named Achilles..."

"A soldier from ancient Greece, right?"

The other nodded. Pat wondered if that was why Achilles always called him by his full name, like it was a title to be proud of. Achilles fit far better with his name, Pat thought.

On the field, the competitors were busy with their usual warm-ups, and Pat spotted Achilles making his third round without even a slight display of exhaustion; he expected the competitors to look just as terrified as they did the last time. To his surprise, Achilles’ posse was not yet present, and as Pat turned around to look at the inevitable spot they’d claim in the back of the tribune, Achilles' father decided to keep their conversation going. "They often come over later, it's surprising you're here early."

Uh oh, was was that supposed to mean? Was it good to be earlier than usual? He didn't know if it was a display of obsessive behaviour or just simply sweet. Even now, Pat felt like he had to be the one creating borders of their personal distance.

"Good thing or bad thing?" he asked, just a tad nervously, but to his surprise, the older man laughed.

"I think, for you, it's a good thing,” he admitted. "Other people who came over early always seemed a bit too obsessed with him..." As Pat had feared. "... But that was because it was very one-sided."

Pat was confused how this man could ever know if theirs was or wasn't one-sided, but he had no time to really ask, as the other was just about to let out an excited, "They're starting!" as he pointed at the contestants neatly walking to the starting line. It was the 100 meters, nothing Achilles couldn't do, and Pat knew that he'd have to do multiple events before he got to the finale; this was merely to determine the good from the bad.

And yet, Pat's stomach still decided to turn in nervousness, even while knowing that Achilles had the best chance of them all to end up in first place.

The starting shot rang, and from the early starters, Achilles gracefully leapt to an advantage within seconds, that ever so smug grin of his glued on his face.

And then it was over, _far too soon_. For someone never concerned with sports, Pat was awfully excited to be cheering alongside Achilles’ father, who had given his son a standing ovation. Such pride from a father, fans everywhere following him around... This guy had such recognition, but at the moment Achilles' sunny grin was directed to the crowd, his eyes focused on Pat, causing something entirely different from nerves to stir as Pat smiled back, awkwardly deciding a thumbs up would maybe be suitable now?

To his relief but equal embarrassment, Achilles’ smile seemed to only grow with that, giving him a toothy grin and doing a thumbs up with both his hands in response, which made Pat just a bit shy.

There were many matches after that, every single one beginning with Pat close to losing his nerves and ending with the athlete looking right his way, making the double thumbs up something of an inside joke soon enough, as he always laughed the moment he initiated it.

Achilles’ father usually kept quiet, save for the excited cheering he did each time; it made Pat happy to see the sheer joy the man experienced with his son reaching such great heights. He wondered how much he knew, if he was aware of how _special_ Achilles was, even above average judgements.

It was around the time that Achilles’ groupies arrived that the man next to him finally came back to the previous topic of their two-sided relationship, and after some nonsense chatter before to keep the air between them comfortable, this was a surprising change.

“He talks a lot about you, you know. Achilles told me you’re not really a sportsman, but that you’re very intelligent and good at biology, he admires that,” the man told him, and Pat could do nothing but look a bit dumbfounded at the other. It wasn’t often that people recognized his skills, nor did they find it particularly special that he could get some high grades in biology. People often only cared for the things performed off-paper, like Achilles winning race after race without tiring, or someone being really good at singing or performing. “It is lovely meeting you, Pat. I mean that, you’re quite something else.”

“Thank you.” He couldn’t really think of anything else to say, though he was practically _glowing_ with pride, almost a foreign feeling to him. Achilles _genuinely_ liked him, admired him for skills that others ignored. He wished to hear more, to hear what else Achilles had to say about him, he could do it so easily with him-

“GO ACHILLES!” They were noisy, always shouting and stomping on the bleachers; Pat was never really going to have a fondness for the group. Even now with their shared passion to see their friend perform, these guys did nothing but glorify the accomplishments, while Pat, to his own idea, glorified and admired the way Achilles did it; his start was not the fastest, but his strides were long and balanced, the change of his footwork quick.

A roaring cheering of Achilles’ posse filled his ears the moment said athlete crossed the finish line, and Pat looked surprised as he saw Achilles’ dad do nothing but smile now, not even standing up. “He wouldn’t hear me anyway,” he muttered. Pat felt a bit sorry for him, but that soon changed as Achilles looked right at them, waving at his dad who proudly smiled and waved back and then, _yes there they were_ , the bloody thumbs up. Pat instantly showed his own, rolling his eyes at the guys above them, at which Achilles only shrugged. If he could hear him over the roaring, he would probably say something along the lines of ‘Can’t really stop them, can I?’

Pat felt countless eyes boring into his back, and with hunched shoulders, he just covered his face back in the scarf. He was happy that he’d dressed in warm clothes; he could see the occasional person in the crowd breathe on their hands to keep them warm, but Pat’s were warm, glowing. He wondered if he felt warmer than Achilles usually did, but with the natural glow in his tanned skin, he didn’t expect his warmth to ever feel healthy. It always felt like the guy had a fever, it seemed, the times Pat could actually bear being touched by him, that was.

More matches, more victories for Achilles, who sometimes got close to having a proper competitor for the title. Yet, they always ended up at least half a step behind him. And then, eventually, as it was already afternoon and Pat’s stomach was growling, it was time for the finale. Achilles was standing there, next to competitors he had not raced yet and ones he had already beat alike. One of the most challenging ones was a guy about a head taller than Achilles, who even made bigger steps than him. The athlete had to win with pure power, and Pat wondered if it was his own tension he was even feeling, or if, in some way, it was shared with Achilles. Yet.. the other showed nothing more than a smile, excited to perform again.

And then, as if fate couldn’t have picked a worse time, a new word popped into his head.

Well, not a word, a sentence.

_That is what a son should be_

The words had never forced the breath out of him before, but now, it came like a punch in the gut; they were words he’d thought before, but he’d never really heard it so direct, it practically felt like a memory. Had his father ever said it? He did not remember, yet it certainly _felt_ like it was a memory.

The moment he got himself under control again, his face still frozen in shock, his eyes locked right with emerald green ones out on the field. Achilles was staring at him, his lips parted and his brows knit together, but most of all, a sincerity in his gaze; concern.

Achilles had heard it too.

Pat had no time to sign anything to assure him that he was okay. It was almost surreal that a second later, the starting shot of the match went out, and Pat looked, pale-faced, at how Achilles struggled to catch back up with the rest, his ears barely registering more than an annoying ringing sound, the uproarious sounds of the footballers behind him fading away.

Achilles caught up with one, two, three and then eventually, the fourth, his biggest competitor, just before he arrived at the finish line.

He should have felt euphoria, but all he could do was think about how horrific it would have been if he’d distracted Achilles even further, if he’d _lost_ this important match, to not hear his father cheer next to him. Pat would never have forgiven himself, it was obvious that these words had been for him and him alone.

“Pat..” It was Achilles’ father, who was now gently shaking his shoulder to get his attention, and he tried to turn his expression as unaffected as possible, even though he had probably solidly looked at the ground for a full minute. “Yes?”

“I think… Achilles wants to talk to you.”

His stomach dropped as his gaze fell on the athlete’s form, moving closer in a hurry, and only now did he register how unusual this was, an entire juxtaposition with all that he had accomplished today; he was the big winner, but the look he had on his face was stern, nothing at all like someone celebrating their victory. It was almost embarrassing to see how everyone’s eyes were following him expectantly. The entire event was focused on him, but Achilles did nothing with it, he just walked straight up to Pat, and panic caused his mind to shut down; what should he say? Should he apologize for causing such a distraction?

“I-I’m-” Achilles was right there, and Pat noticed once again how much of an embarrassing stuttering mess he was. Fortunately, Achilles seemed serious enough to ignore it for now. “Don’t. It’s not your fault,” he muttered, and he barely heard the confused question his father had asked, until Achilles answered. “It’s fine, thank you, dad.” Pat was only really focusing on the athlete, and as a hand came around his wrist, he let himself get pulled with him, now hearing the footsteps coming down the bleachers behind them. The football team had come over to congratulate Achilles, but luckily, oh so _luckily_ , Achilles knew what Pat needed, pulling them behind a small building that housed the sports locker room before the footballers could really force the two to stay put.

“Hey, you okay?”

Pat could hear the hushed tone in the other’s voice. He was concerned, and Pat glanced at Achilles’ hand, which had moved to hold his. “I am fine,” he said back, and looked up into his eyes again only to assure him of it. He wasn’t lying, he was technically fine, right? He had heard worse insults, just never from his own mind. “It was nothing, just another word, we have like fifty.”

“Not really, that was a really harsh one and a _sentence_ , holy shit,” Achilles muttered, and as he squeezed Pat’s arm, he pulled it away in embarrassment. “Sorry.” It was more absent-minded, he could hear it in the other’s voice. “You know that theory I had? How some words are meant for different people?” Achilles had mentioned it, it certainly explained why they had both experienced different things during their hallucinations.

“Yes.”

“I think.. this one wasn’t meant for me.” It was hesitant, it was obvious that Achilles didn’t want to open old wounds, old wounds they both didn’t even understand yet. He barely knew things about Pat other than what he’d been told, but it wouldn’t really be surprising if Achilles had figured out his Patroclus didn’t have too much to be proud of.

“I am almost certain it was meant for me, yes.” His own voice was on a thin border of breaking, and so that he didn’t have to see the worried gaze the other was giving him, he just looked down at the damp grass beneath their shoes. Only now as he tried to distract himself from the events, he noticed his surroundings, how cold it was without a makeshift roof above his head, and with no walls to break the cool wind, he could barely suppress the shiver that followed.

“Are you okay?”

He had already asked, why was he doing so again? “I said I’m _fine_.”

“You’re not, though.” Damn his stubbornness forever.

“It’s not very pleasant to be reminded of how much your parents want their son to be like someone else,” he snapped, his eyes still on the ground, and although he couldn’t see it, he could hear Achilles sigh.

“Patroclus.” His voice was low, it sounded stern. Achilles tried again. “Patroclus, look at me.”

Pat didn’t want to, but he knew he was going to regret not doing so.

And there Achilles was, still in his shorts and shirt in the drizzling rain, his eyes firmly locked on his. “If your parents really think like that, they’re idiots. I’m not kidding. If they ever said something like that to you, they’re not right.”

“They never did.” Pat admitted.

Achilles’ shoulders lowered. “Good.”

Pat didn’t know what to say, though he remembered what Achilles’ father had said, how this guy admired him for his biology skills, for his knowledge and intelligence, and it was.. flattering that this was indeed true. “Thanks.”

“No worries. Hey, you hungry?” Achilles knew a wrong moment when he saw one, it seemed, though it did earn a smile on Pat's face as he nodded. “Okay, good. Let me just get that medal and pose for a few silly pictures and we can go to a fast food or whatever you want, really.”

They returned, and as they came into view, Achilles briefly warned him about the footballers, allowing Pat to return to his seat next to the other's dad before a group of them practically tackled him. He was staring at them, wanting to learn to converse with a big group like that, like a pack leader he was.

_“Achilles to the stage, Achilles to the stage.”_ The stern voice made Pat cringe a bit, it was obvious that they had tried to find him earlier.

Pat didn’t understand why Achilles' father was still next to him, quietly looking at the events in front of him, a now-damp Achilles posing in front of the photographers for the local newspaper. He knew that all of them would turn out to be amazing, Achilles _always_ looked amazing.

“You know, I’m.. fine with you guys, right?” the other man said, kindly, as he glanced at Pat, and it took a moment for this random assurance to make sense as Pat widened his eyes.

“Oh! Oh no, no we’re not… We’re not anything! I mean, I’m gay but I’m not like.. in a relationship with your son.”

The man looked curious for a moment, but then nodded. “Okay. I wasn’t really assuming you were, I just said I’d be okay with it.” The thought made Pat blush a little, and then he quickly looked at Achilles, who was coming their way again, now wearing a big golden medal around his neck. “Hey! Just gonna take a quick shower and then we can go out to lunch somewhere. Oh, about that! Dad, can I have some money for lunch?”

The man laughed, nodding as he gave Achilles some cash, and to Pat’s amusement, as Achilles walked away, the man leaned in and informed him that it was like an apology for making him feel uncomfortable, something Pat quickly brushed away.

*********

Pat’s stomach didn’t feel like it would handle grease today, so as Achilles suggested places to eat, Pat simply suggested to go to a sandwich shop closeby, the mood there was nicer anyway, though he felt a bit embarrassed to be joined by a guy in a pair of sweatpants and a varsity jacket with his last name on it.

Even though he looked even better than Pat in ordinary outfits.

As they were sitting there, both now with nicely-filled sandwiches and cups of hot liquids in front of them, the slight tension of recent events started disappearing little by little, and it made place for more pressing matters: Pat’s findings.

“So, like I was saying on the way over here, I think I may have a theory about what’s happening to us?”

Achilles was chewing through his first bite, but did show quite a bit of interest in Pat’s words, leaning forward and widening his eyes just a bit.

“Reincarnation.”

“Hm?”

“Reincarnation, it’s rebirth after you die.”

Achilles just nodded, and then swallowed his bite. “Already considered it.”

Pat paused. “... And?”

“Not possible.”

Well, that was a bother. “Why not?”

Achilles got his phone from his pocket and showed him the heritage of the word. “According to many religions, you do not remember anything from your previous lives, _plus_ , you certainly don’t come back looking exactly the same.”

They experienced hallucinations, things unexplainable by any scientist, and Achilles told him _this_ wasn’t possible because of some Wikipedia article?

“Maybe we’re special.”

“Maybe we’re just not this.”

Pat sighed, taking the first bite of his own sandwich after his stomach growled again. “Okay, nevermind then. It’s not like we have any better theories.”

Now that Pat thought about it, if the words he had heard before felt so much like a memory, then maybe they weren't his. Or at least his. The thought saddened him, just a little, to think about someone saying that to him, right to his face.

Maybe he should just not think about it and focus on Achilles’ match. He had enough compliments lined up for the other, and he was willing to work on getting a smile on the other’s face.

*********

The lunch had proceeded to run smoothly without any more awkwardness, but one of the most important things was that Pat was able to convince Achilles to at least leave the option of reincarnation open as a reason why this was happening to them.

That monday, during one of the many classes he shared with Brianna, he was overthinking some things once again, reminding himself of what Achilles’ father had told him; how much Achilles seemed to respect things about him. Would Achilles think he was smart right now? Writing down his notes meticulously? He wished that the other could see it, or maybe see how many questions he answered right as the teacher asked them out loud. It was something he couldn’t really tell Achilles, could he? ‘I answered about five questions the teacher asked right today!' It sounded like something a young child would tell their parent over dinner while having nothing to say.

Quickly and quietly, his mobile phone buzzed in his pocket, and with the most discrete movement he could possibly manage, he brought it out to look at the message. He had hoped for a text, preferably from a certain athlete, but as he looked closely, he realized that the notification was from an email he'd received instead.

It took him a moment to recognize the address, and then the breath caught in his throat.

Brianna, who was sitting next to him, was now curiously gazing at her friend, especially down at his phone. “I just.. received the translation of the scripts they found," he explained, and with annoyingly shaky hands, he sent a message to Achilles.

_We’ve got mail._

It was tempting to just run out of class and skip the rest of the day to look at the translations, but with only two more classes till the next exam coming up, he couldn’t afford to give himself a bad reputation with a teacher who was otherwise not willing to help him with any questions he had.

Pat eventually had to turn off the vibration function on his mobile to keep it from making quite a bit of noise.

Oh my god! Send it to me!

Patroclus i’m right here to read it! Come over!!!

Hey i’m walking to the library, will you be there?

Patroclus?

_I’m in the middle of class but believe me, i do not lack any excitement!_

Okay, will you be there afterwards?

How long till it’s done?

_Twenty more minutes, and i won’t send you the file._

Why not?

Oh come on do you not trust me, Patroclus?

_I can barely trust myself with this file, Achilles._

The next twenty minutes were practically _unbearable_. Pat had initially been staring at the clock and counting down the seconds, but had soon decided that daydreaming would make the time pass much quicker. Or so he thought. The whole thing was rather discouraging, actually, he'd been proven wrong every time he checked the time, for only a minute would have passed.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Brianna get a little bit twitchy from his impatience as well, her handwriting morphing into an even more unreadable scrawl than it usually was. His own, though meticulous on any other day, was suffering just as much as Brianna's, he didn't even have the concentration to hear a word of what the teacher was saying. Achilles might admire his grades and intelligence, but he was really good at keeping Pat from continuing it, only ever distracting him. Now more than ever, they were about to come a step closer to an answer, he could _feel_ it.

And then, as the bell rang and class was dismissed, Brianna didn’t even have time to wish him goodbye, as Pat rushed away in a mess of notebook paper and awkward limbs. Even now, with seemingly nothing on his mind but the idea of reaching the school’s library, he found himself still self-conscious of the way he walked with more than a normal acceptable speed, keeping his head lowered as he made his way to the library as quickly as possible without catching too much attention.

Upon arriving, he found Achilles sitting in a chair right in front of the entrance, eyes instantly meeting his. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” he cheered, and before Pat could really say anything, he was forced to try to regain his balance as Achilles practically dragged him to one of the spots they usually sat at, nice and empty, secret.

“So, log in! Did you read anything in it?”

“No, I forced myself to wait, and it was tough,” Pat muttered, impatiently tapping on the table in front of them as the computer loaded and checked the information on his school’s databases’ account.

“What do you think we’ll find?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you’ll be big in the story?”

“I will not be because I’m not in the story, someone sharing _my name_ is, and I don’t know.”

“I think I’ll be in it.”

“You didn’t live at that time.” Pat was in the process of dishing out payback for Achilles instantly dismissing his theory on reincarnation, and at the way his friend was knitting together his eyebrows and glaring at him, it was clear that he was now realizing this.

“We’ll come back to that later.”

The instant the computer _finally_ loaded, Pat clicked the mailbox application icon and waited for it to load, the computer still too overwhelmed to really do much more than show a loading window. But then, slowly, emails appeared, and one at the very top was unopened.

The both of them found each other leaning in close, shoulders pressed against each other as they read the email.

_Dear Pat and Achilles,_

_We, at the office, are very excited to share the first official translations of these documents with you. We hope previous promises will stay intact as you read, and we hope it will be suitable for your presentation on the classical time period of Ancient Greece._

_Kind regards,_

_The Transatlas team_

There were two files attached, one named read this first! and one named with a numerical code neither of them really understood. Pat clicked on the file, his hand shaking a bit on the mouse, and as the word file popped open, the two of them started reading eagerly, his own skin crawling with nerves, anywhere his skin didn’t touch the other’s.

_Dear Pat and Achilles,_

_My name is Karen, and I am the main translator of the documents found in the other file. To help you all a bit on your way with the Illiad and the new, yet unidentified document, we wanted to make sure to summarize each file for you._

_The first 400 pages are a far more extended translation of Homer’s Illiad, a poem surrounding the Trojan war and other close events. In this story, we are very excited to tell you that the warrior Achilles who was mentioned in the article you found has a far bigger role than we had thought from other scriptures..._

Pat paused in his reading to look at Achilles, grinning and briefly grabbing his bicep, and to his amusement, he found Achilles’ lips only parting about twenty seconds later; either the other guy was far more invested in reading each word, or Pat was really a faster reader.

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“Very good news.”

They both instantly turned back to the document, but this time, Pat kept his shaky hand on Achilles’ arm, to just search for that tiny bit of comfort.

_... translators have been working on this over the years and even centuries. To summarize it briefly: this Illiad starts within the middle of them claiming prizes from one of the plundering of the villages surrounding Troy. Achilles is mentioned right away, A prince and the son of Peleus and Thetis, a sea nymph. According to prophecies, Achilles is Aristos Achaion, which means the best of the Greeks. One of the things that excites us is the naming of a new hero; Πάτροκλος or Patroclus..._

Pat widened his eyes, looking at his own name right there shown on the screen. Black on white. Maybe not printed, but certainly typed out by a person who knew what they were talking about. Achilles’ arm pulled out of his hand, and with a surprising movement, a pair of gentle fingers surrounded his own moments later.

_... who was, what the Greeks called, Achilles’ Therapon, sworn to the prince and his closest companion. Although, from this writing, we cannot explicitly state the status of their relationship, there are quite a lot of suggestions the two were very close._

_Unfortunately, as the story follows, there is a break between the armies fighting against the Trojans. In one part of Homer’s writing, Achilles’ closest friend dies in battle trying to protect the armies by pretending to be his companion. From then on, The Illiad turns into a story of mourning. I will not go into detail, for even writing a summary is painful and doesn’t show the absolute sorrow put into words by Homer, but Achilles does not take the death of his dearest companion easily._

_Now to go over the second document, which is very exciting in the least and casts some light on the lifestyles of these young men in their tragic story..._

Pat was speechless. Absolutely speechless. There it was, an explanation for what happened at the medieval fair. There it was, Achilles’ story. Pat swallowed nervously, hoping the other would not get too upset by the words that summarized the real Patroclus’ death, that explained the absolute horror the two of them had experienced that day. But, as Achilles finally turned to look at him, the other was smiling, though weakly. “Did you read that? Best of the Greeks! Me!” he said, and as Pat tried to force down his worries for the way Achilles was suppressing this event, he smiled back.

“It fits you. Even though it’s strictly not _you_ they’re talking about.”

The other waved it away. “Maybe you were right about the reincarnation thing. We should read the entire document they sent us, it seems pretty long...”

Pat hummed, forcing himself not to think about the suggestion in the summary regarding the true nature of Patroclus’ and Achilles’ relationship. Whatever would come out of it, it was strictly not _them_ , right?

“And don’t forget the mention of Therapon! That’s one of the words we heard!”

“Yes!”

_... The second attachment seems to be a documentation of a far bigger and far more personal aspect of Achilles’ and Patroclus’ life, and seems mostly like it was written by his therapon himself._

_If we had to guess, the document was rewritten again and again, but words suggest it was written during the 10 years the two fought together against Troy. It starts with Patroclus telling about his banishment, after he killed Clysonymus. He tells how he meets Achilles, prince of Phthia, and becomes close friends with him, and how he gets entirely infatuated with the boy until he actually gets as far as kissing him. Now, in Greek culture, it was normal for young boys to share a sentiment in each other, but..._

Pat’s hand slipped from Achilles’ fingers, and for a moment, he felt very self-conscious of how close he was pressed against the other’s body. Actually, once again, he found some more discomfort in it, he just wished for his stomach to stop feeling so light at merely being close to Achilles.

So it was what he had feared, then. Achilles and Patroclus were lovers. That was all they really had to know, right?

“Patroclus?” the other tried, carefully, now officially caught up to understand Pat’s silence. He didn’t know what suddenly made it so awkward, perhaps it was the thought that whatever he'd felt for Achilles had never really been _his_ feelings all along, but just a stupid gut feeling he'd followed. It had never really been an option to resist it, right? If this was indeed reincarnation and a play of the gods, then they were cruel, heartless, to strip Pat of his free will. What his gut feelings were telling him now? Resist, do the opposite of what it was telling him, no feelings for Achilles in what way whatsoever, but even the thought made him feel nauseous. Achilles had always been kind, but had it been because he liked Pat, or because it was what his gut feelings told him as well?

He would not take out his frustrations on Achilles, he was a victim in this too, right?

“I’m fine, just a bit unnerved by this new information, do you still think it’s not reincarnation?”

“Well, I mean, there are lots of _coincidences_ so I wouldn’t say it isn’t possible, but we should keep an open mind.”

“Good.”

There was a silence between them now, awkward and unsettlingly final, and it felt like any attempt at changing that would sound twenty times as bad. Pat's skin prickled uncomfortably, his eyes going back to read further.

_... his wording suggests that even while writing the document, he is still together with Achilles. After said kiss, Achilles runs away to train with Chiron, at which Patroclus follows him, and gets accepted to train with Achilles near Mount Pelion. While they are there, Achilles and Patroclus learn to use medicines, how to hunt and gather, and how to handle a bow._

Pat remembered the hallucination of him with Achilles, how the other taught him how to use a bow, and with a shiver, he found himself shifting away from Achilles even further.

He was able to see the other gaze at him just a bit sadly.

_Around the time of Achilles’ sixteenth birthday, this book tells us about the beginning of a romantic relationship. Their happiness is, unfortunately, short-lived, for Achilles is soon invited by the guards of Peleus to return, as there is a war coming. There is a certain time in which the writer summarizes this, but the writing seems to show embarrassment, as it shows Achilles being forced into romantic relationships with multiple women, which saddens Patroclus. There is a big part in here summarizing the argument between Achilles and Agamemnon, with the biggest problem being that Achilles refuses to fight in the war during said argument, but it also focuses on Patroclus getting a fondness for one of the captured women from the Trojans, Briseis. Their relationship seems at least half romantic, though it is always shown that Patroclus is bonded to Achilles, and that Achilles loves him back dearly._

_There is not much around here in the end, the book ends about the time the Illiad describes the death of Patroclus, and the last entry is about Patroclus' plan to save their armies and ships, to keep Achilles’ worth for him, his beloved._

_I do want to remind you both that these translations are brought to you in confidentiality, and that we do not allow you to bring anything out before we do so officially._

_I hope you’re just as excited about the outcome of these translations as we are._

_Kind regards,_

_Karen._

“Right.” Achilles was the first to break their silence, his voice hesitant. Pat was still staring at the screen to avoid looking at him. “That certainly answers a few questions.” A new silence fell. Pat didn’t feel like responding right now, taking in the new information. It was just too much to handle.

Pat glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer’s screen, and to his relief, his hour of freedom was almost over. Even though he'd first wanted to skip some classes if this was indeed what they'd been searching for, Pat was in no mood to spend any more time awkwardly trying to avoid the topic of them falling in love in the previous (and the present) life, possibly.

“I have class in five minutes,” Pat said, and he cringed as he heard his voice shaking. “I’ll send you the file, I suggest we both read it through as far as we can and try to link it with the things happening to us.” Pat’s throat went dry and his fingers started trembling again. He’d needed to retype Achilles’ email address twice.

“Patroclus?”

Pat was absolutely horrified that Achilles was going to breach the topic he was trying so hard to avoid, so as he sent it, he crossed his arms, raising his chin and looking at Achilles. "Yes?” His voice was quick, sharp. It sounded annoyed, and even though he had every right to be, he couldn’t help but want to take it back the moment he saw the other’s gaze.

“I-I wanted to ask if we could maybe separate some things. Would you be okay with reading the Illiad?” the other asked, and Pat’s shoulders lowered as he let out a sigh. He knew why; the Illiad probably described the mourning of the hero Achilles after his lover died, and with the way Achilles usually responded to even the slightest reference to that, Pat wouldn’t even dare to decline.

“I will read the Illiad, you may read my writing.”

“You mean Patroclus’ writing.”

“Sure.” Pat clicked the ‘sign off’ button and quickly stood up. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll write down all the information I find, you too?”

“Yes.” Pat didn’t know how quickly he had to gather his possessions and leave the room, his skin still prickling and his face burning up. His mind kept reminding him of the new truth, their new findings.

Achilles and Patroclus had been in love. Everything the two of them had felt till now was love, romantic attraction.

Worst of all, really, was how much it both unnerved him and _didn’t_ unnerve him. Part of him felt tricked by his own mind and memories, but other parts of him felt _relieved_ to finally have a wording for the ways he felt for Achilles, why even looking at him made him feel light.

Without even considering any other option, Pat hid in the nearest student lavatories, his shaking hands typing out a text to Brianna.

  
_Write down notes for me, please. I won’t be attending any more classes today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will have a short hiatus coming up, as i will not have my laptop with me while going on holiday, and i will not be able to post new chapters! But don't worry! I will be writing on my phone, and i hope to finish up at least two chapters to make the 5-week wait worthwhile!  
> If you liked this chapter, it would really make my day if you gave it some kudos, a nice comment, or if you could [send me an ask about it on my Tumblr!](http://Achilltatos.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it finally is, chapter six!  
> FYI: this chapter was written in The Netherlands, New Jersey, New York, Washington, Las Vegas, Baker California, San Francisco, Los Angeles, below the Golden Gate Bridge, in a hole next to a highway after my step dad was so stupid to not check the fuel level of the car, Beverly Hills, and the Grand Canyon! These words have traveled far!  
> [Sam aka Swadeys made this absolutely GORGEOUS fanart of chapter 5, i still can't believe it, check it out!](http://swadeys.tumblr.com/post/126282348439/for-the-doors-are-closed-from-a-scene-in-chapter)  
> Thank you all for being so patient with me! I've had a lovely summer holiday, if you must know, but i'm glad i'm back writing.
> 
> _Pat_   
>  Achilles

The school’s hallways had been warm lately; Pat always found himself sweating even before eleven in the morning when he visited his locker. It wasn't even necessarily the gradual change of weather from winter to spring, it was really all his own fault. If Pat had plans to run away a few times a day, he should at least come prepared and switch his jeans and comfortable sweaters for some shorts and a nice t-shirt.

Who was he running away from? It wasn't the sports team, or any bully whatsoever. It was actually someone he’d grown very fond of over the last couple of weeks.

_And that was exactly the problem._

Achilles had been searching for him even more now that they were getting down to the truth of what was happening, and equally as much, Pat was trying to avoid it.

The document he’d chosen was tough to read. Even if Pat _wanted_ to be reminded of the fact that this Patroclus and Achilles were involved, the entire thing had been translated with the approach of keeping the lyrical poetic format intact. This caused him to need quite a few google searches. Before, he’d been tempted to see if Achilles' document read the same, but after getting only a few sentences in, he’d decided to never open the book again, though Pat didn't have to read much to know just how the other Patroclus felt about his Achilles. The other Patroclus was desperately in love with him, the wording he’d used in his own recounting reminded him of a love letter, though more like a 400 page love letter in this case. The idea that Achilles knew that Pat felt the same as book Patroclus was enough embarrassment for a lifetime. He didn't even dare to look the other in the eyes.

Sometimes, when Pat was tired of running into the closest student lavatory to avoid Achilles, the other would catch up with him, with only the publicness of the student hallway protecting him from a full interrogation. He never met the other's gaze, always acting as if he was looking at the clock; how else would you act as if you’re running late for class?

That Monday, the very same happened. Pat's back felt uncomfortably sweaty after some quick escapes from the other's gaze, and he soon gave up on the entire idea of avoiding Achilles for the day. In the end, Pat was just trying to keep himself from hurting him, trying to let him down easy. He was just.. busy, right? Exams came up, he couldn't read the book, and he needed to be in time for his classes! Nonetheless, it was a struggle, because even now, Pat had to force himself to not look at the sunny smile his friend was giving him as he approached. He was clearly very excited about telling Pat the new information he’d gotten, as if he hadn't already sent twenty messages about it the night before.

"Hey, Patroclus! It's been a while since we've had lunch together, what about today in the canteen? I brought some candy figs for us."  The invitation was so genuine, and although a few weeks ago Pat would’ve fought someone in medieval fair style to share a lunch with Achilles, he was now trying to come up with a way out of it.

"I'm sorry, Achilles. I can't. I know we usually do, but I have this science project and it's honestly taking all my energy away, I need to spend some of my free time on it in the lab,” he explained, flashing the other a guilty look.

The other was gazing to the left, clearly trying to find something to say that didn’t sound like he was complaining about the lack of time they’d been spending together recently. "Okay! That's fine! Maybe another time then? Tomorrow?" Oh dear, Achilles was planning.

"My schedule is really irregular, I can't promise anything."

That sunny grin stayed, even though his eyes seemed to smile a little less. "Good luck, then. Keep me updated, will you?"

And with a nod in response, Achilles left.

Pat was only able to get his breathing under control the moment Achilles was out of sight.

During their lunch break, Pat dragged Brianna with him to the science lab. He hadn’t yet given an explanation, and he could sense that Brianna was this close to telling him off for it and all the other times he’d done something similar. But, after weeks of keeping his promise to share everything with her, it seemed as if she was giving him a chance.

As soon as they were inside, petri dishes and food colouring were grabbed from the shelves. Some older students looked at the two of them curiously, confused as to why there were a few irregular visitors during lunch, but let it go after a while to continue their light prism experiments. "We could’ve gone to the art department if you wanted to colour, y'know,” Brianna eventually muttered as Pat filled petri dishes with drops of dye to make it look like he was doing _something_ productive.

He grunted in response. "The moment this looks like an experiment, we'll eat our lunch and I'll explain."

And he did not disappoint. As soon as they were sitting on the bar stools sneakily filling their mouths with sandwiches, Pat broke the silence.

"I’m trying to avoid Achilles again."

Brianna's eyes focused on him, and quickly, he looked down at his own hands that were holding a cheese and cucumber sandwich. "You could’ve just told him, you know. He has never been disrespectful to your wishes, right?" Brianna was able to give a fresh perspective on things sometimes, even if it wasn’t that simple. It never was, unfortunately.

"I told you only half the story, really. It's not suggested that Patroclus and Achilles were together, it's _explicitly_ stated in one of the documents, and it's messing me up, Brianna. I _share_ those feelings." She wasn't surprised to hear that, which made Pat quite a bit frustrated. "I don't want to hurt him again, I can't just suddenly tell him I’m not doing research with him anymore." 

After weeks of being on Pat's side during these confusing times, Brianna seemed to have learned the exact way to approach Pat in his fragile states. "You’re probably right, I trust you know what you're doing, Pat."

They spent quite a bit of time afterwards eating in silence, and even though he trusted Brianna to speak the truth, Pat was quite sure that, this time, she was keeping the topic from him to avoid confrontation.

*********

It started getting hotter around the end of the week, with Pat spotting the first guys in bermuda shorts and the first girls in skirts without tights. Also around the same time, the first whispers started going around of a big sports festival being organized, with a certain _athlete_ competing in it. Pat hadn’t found out by way of school gossip, however, he’d just been having notes appear in his locker. Apparently, Achilles was reverting back to old-fashioned means of communication, which had its charm, surely, but it was also something harder to ignore than a simple text.

_Hey Patroclus! This Saturday, school's sports fields, we have a few friendly matches going on, maybe another lunch afterwards? ;)_  
  
He never responded, though it certainly was just as tempting as ever to come take a look.

*********

_I remember the first time I saw Achilles, during the games my father hosted. It is a distant memory, but one of the only ones I remember before my banishment to Phtia. It feels like a new life now, the youth in his face is still visible, and if I squeeze my eyes, I can see him as that young boy again, untroubled, excited, I can still see it sometimes when he's asleep next to me, but it has made place for far more dominant traits I wish he had never gotten. I still silently thank him each day for making that memory a good one, instead of another display of my father's expectations of me._

  
_That's what a son should be, he would say, and there was a point where I envied him, but I am Patroclus and he is Achilles, and I am proud to follow him wherever he goes till the end. Maybe my father was like my mother: he knew enough, but he didn't know much else._

*********

It was a Friday evening, and Pat couldn't sleep.  
  


His homework was done, he was reasonably prepared for next week's tests, but there he was, lying in bed and unable to think about anything else but tomorrow and how much Achilles was ready to spot him there in the audience. Who would receive the thumbs up this time? The idea that there might be a lucky girl in the audience made him feel a bit sick. It felt like there was a voice constantly putting ideas in his mind, and strangely enough, Pat accepted it, invited them in. The voice was currently to tell him that spending an hour at Achilles' match wouldn't give off the wrong message. It wasn't as if Pat had been trying to distance himself from him for the past week and a half, right?

He had tried everything from rereading old texts from Achilles about the translations, to reading the Illiad again himself, but all he ended up actually doing was getting distracted before his thoughts went right back to Achilles. It was a miracle this hadn't been a problem during studying, but now, how would he get to sleep?  
  
Softly, ever so gently, he closed his eyes again, and for the first time, he allowed the thoughts to come in, warm memories of the present and his past hallucinations filling his mind. It was foreign, the way his hallucinations and memories of Achilles were so similar. He began to wonder if he had stayed the same. Book Patroclus sounded brave and intelligent, admired by such a great warrior like Achilles, the other couldn't possibly-

_No, that wasn't true, Achilles liked him, admired him, his father had said so himself!_  
  
He just wished he'd heard it from Achilles' mouth instead of his father's.

*********

Pat succeeded at falling asleep not long afterwards, and it was frustrating to know how easy and functional it was to give in to the emotions that surfaced whenever Achilles became  present in his life again. He didn't sleep for long, though. At eight in the morning, his brain seemed to have decided that he'd slept for long enough, and as Pat sluggishly looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he grunted. Just in time to visit Achilles' match, wasn't it? While still tempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up and glanced at the schedule he'd meticulously made for himself. In his planning, as usual, he'd given himself about two hours to wake up, then he'd start studying at twelve.

He could visit Achilles if he wanted to.

Did he want to?

It really was an internal battle. He did want to avoid Achilles, to see if some distance between them would clear up his mind and bring him back to seeing the other in a more platonic gaze, but the idea of seeing Achilles win his races again... He could make an exception, surely? 

Could he?

He could.

With a huff, Pat sat up, hoping that he wouldn't end up regretting doing all these things for Achilles. That wouldn't really be a good thing, would it? Especially if he wanted to keep himself from hurting the other.   
  
Avoiding confrontation seemed to be one of his talents.

*********

The bleachers were, just like last time he’d arrived at one of Achilles' matches, relatively empty. What Pat noticed this time was that even his father wasn't present. It was probably too much of a practice match to bother showing up. Nonetheless, Pat wasn't regretting being there, he was actually proud that he'd spent the time to go. Only better if Achilles' friends wouldn't show up. Hesitantly, he chose a spot on the bleachers in the back in hopes that it would prevent him from being spotted. Though the lack of an audience wasn't a huge help. One quick look and Achilles would probably recognize him. The only thing he could really trust in was the fact that, as usual, he was too plain to be noticed.

There was a moment of hesitation if he should risk getting himself a coffee or not, or maybe another cup of tea, but around the moment he was about to stand up, a familiar figure appeared from the dressing rooms. Who else left for his warm ups without sweatpants? Pat got cold just from looking at the other, but then again, he was very sensitive to cold weather, as he was, even now with summer approaching, in a thick sweater and long trousers, and his fingers were going numb.   
  
People were watching Achilles, who took determined steps towards the grass field to start his routine. Pat couldn't see it well enough to make sure, but the way he didn't respond to any of the sounds coming from the megaphone clearly suggested that he might have been wearing headphones. Achilles really didn't expect anyone to show up then. The thought was almost sad, but then Pat remembered how much he’d wanted to see the other alone for once, not like they did during their lunch breaks, but really alone, where there was nobody watching and he could be himself. Was it a façade he held up? Constantly smiling, flawless movements? There was still so much to find out about this Achilles, but all he was currently doing was figuring out about past Achilles. It wasn’t encouraging him to read the translations, that’s for sure.  
  
Fifteen minutes of watching Achilles warm up with his teammates, and then the first names were called to the starting line.

His was part of the first heat, of course, and Pat watched as he was put at number ten, which was a bit confusing given the fact that he’d always seen him start at number one. 

Then it started. Pat wished he could’ve been able to sit closer, to be able to see him better, because Achilles was running like something was chasing him, that's how quick and impossible he was to beat. He won without effort, truly. Pat was tempted to start clapping, only to realize that the people around him were silent. Achilles didn't even seem bothered by this, either, putting on his earphones and walking towards his sports bag again, taking a small sip of water. Okay, so the other was truly expecting no one to show up. 

Pat looked at the time. He promised himself that he'd be there for another half an hour, and with the safety net of Achilles not expecting anyone to show up, it seemed that he’d be able to stay.  
  
Or so he thought.  
  
After watching three more flawless victories, his hour was almost up. Pat was about to really leave, but then he got held up by looking at Achilles as he walked closer, scanning the other's muscular body and his damp hair, wondering how much better he looked up close. He recalled it a bit too well, from the small damp curls that stood differently due to his activities, to the far stronger breaths he took that stretched his shirt over the expanse of a muscular chest.

  
Pat wanted him, he truly did. Even after despising his feelings for Achilles, he couldn't resist feeling needy, hungry for more than just a pat on the shoulder, or that warm body pressing against his side. He wanted it like the hallucinations and the dreams; admiring eyes, swift but gentle movements over his skin, the most amazing feeling of lips brushing over his. Would it be too much to ask? Yes, probably. Achilles had given no indication whatsoever that he reciprocated his feelings, it was still driving him mad. What if Achilles was secretly uncomfortable reading the diary?

A yearning in his stomach made itself known. He’d had this before, being in Achilles' presence did something to him, he didn't even have to see him to feel it. 

Unfortunately, Achilles seemed to have the same, and with one quick glance, they locked eyes.   
  
A shock went through him, one he’d never felt before. Maybe it was the weird thing happening between them, or maybe it was just his response to the sunny grin that appeared on Achilles’ face. Pat could practically feel his excitement.

Pat rushed off as fast as he could. He ran between the audience, avoiding his gaze as he was horrified to see that grin leave his face. He had to leave, he wasn't supposed to be here, this was a mistake!

He could feel Achilles still staring at him, and just before he disappeared out of sight, he glanced back. That was another mistake.  
  
Achilles was closer than he’d expected, staring right back at him with one hand holding the metal fencing separating the track field from the audience, as if he had to stop himself from following Pat. In the background, a faint voice could be heard from the megaphone, calling his name. He couldn't follow. Pat turned around again, and shook his head, mouthing a 'go' to him in hopes to convince him to go back to his match, and for some reason, it _hurt_.

He rushed home as fast as his legs would take him, a cold, empty feeling seeping into his stomach.

*********

_I'm leaving him._   
_Troy’s armies are threatening near the walls of our city. Without Achilles and the myrmidons, we will lose this war._   
_Ajax is dead, killed by spears while trying to defend our ships._   
  
_I fear for Achilles, for his honour. I do not want him to lose it, the threat of his death in this war hangs heavily upon our shoulders._   
_I do not want to lose him._   
  
_There is only one solution. I will take his place in this war, I will wear his armour._   
_I see the doubt in his eyes, he fears for my life, but I will not fight, they fear him, they will fear the sight of me in his armour._   
  
_I do not expect to die, but if anything happens, if I die, please remember Achilles, the golden boy, the Aristos Achaion, not for his faulty choices in schemes made by Odysseus and Agamemnon, but for his leadership, his pride, the courage he had leading an army from childhood to adulthood, and above all, for his purity. He is truly a god amongst men, do not forget it._   
_Centuries later, people will still remember his name, I know they will, he is going to lead the Greeks to victory, and he will die with his honour intact._

*********

Studying was tough after that. Pat had practically jinxed himself by thinking this wouldn't have happened. Luckily, he’d had plenty of time beforehand, and he managed to get an 78 out of 100 with his practice test, something that was good enough, he supposed. It was enough not to stress, certainly. His phone had been off for the remainder of the day, so Achilles' texts weren't even 'received' by him, maybe that sort of message would be loud and clear.  
  
Nonetheless, on Saturday evening, Pat couldn't resist to peek at his texts again, only to see three new messages from his friend.   
  
Hey Patroclus! Thank you for visiting the match today! I didn't expect you to turn up, did you like it? -3:45 PM  
  
How is your weekend? Studying hard, i suppose, since you couldn't lunch last week, i hope we could do it next week? -4:21 PM  
  
Did i do something wrong? I'm sorry. -6:36 PM  
  
Pat didn't really feel anything about the messages until he saw the last one, the guilt hitting him like a brick wall. Dammit! He couldn't even think about himself once without unintentionally hurting Achilles!   
  
Distancing himself or not, he wasn't going to leave that message unanswered.  
  
 _It's fine, Achilles. You did nothing wrong, i just wasn't in the mood to talk. I'll talk to you when i'm ready to figure things out. Good night. -9:28 PM_

*********

On monday morning, there was a new note in his locker, and Pat sighed.

*********

Ignoring Achilles started taking its toll on him, once again. Pat's sleeping pattern became irregular and, slowly, there came a night where he just couldn't sleep. It was on a Thursday, and luckily, it was one test and then back home. He carried himself towards his lockers to pack his bag and start a weekend of rest.   
  
But when he opened his locker with a sigh, a small booklet fell out and ended up opened on two pages filled with messy handwriting, which Pat instantly recognized as Achilles'.   
  
And that was the moment he was truly done.  
  
The frustration of endlessly skirting around Achilles was getting to him now, Pat lacked patience and just wanted things over and done with for once.   
  
Snatching the booklet from the floor, he slammed his locker shut and made his way to the canteen because _of course_ Achilles had texted him where he was about an hour ago, and Pat's patience was, together with his amount of sleep, extremely miserable.   
  
He was about to cross a line.  
  
He pushed past a few pairs of shoulders on his way to the canteen, where he found students sitting at tables and enjoying their lunches. Pat scanned the crowd.

Luckily, just like last weekend, it wasn't tough for Achilles and Pat to find each other in a crowd. Pat ignored the shock that went through his body when those green eyes met his.  
  
And then, with a dramatic movement of his hand, he threw the notebook right into the trashcan, eyes still locked with Achilles'. He thought it would've brought relief, finally showing the other his constant annoyance and struggle, but when he saw the way Achilles' eyes widened as he hurriedly stood up, he suddenly regretted it.

Even worse, Pat _panicked_ when Achilles hurried over to him, and with no hesitation, he ran out of the canteen again, hoping to find the closest bathroom to hide in. Confrontation was coming, he could feel it, and with the mood he was currently in, there was bound to be drama.

But who would expect to outrun the school champion? The fastest boy in their school?  
  
"PATROCLUS!"

He had never heard Achilles pronounce his name so sharply. It made him cringe, wishing that the student lavatories weren't so far away, but unfortunately, they were, and he felt dread sink deeper and deeper into his stomach as his footsteps approached.

It took Achilles less than twenty seconds to catch up to him, and Pat looked straight ahead to avoid the other's gaze.   
  
"So, what's your deal? Why did you throw these notes away?" From the corner of his eye, Pat saw the booklet he'd thrown away, now covered in stains from things he didn't want to even think about. Nonetheless, he kept walking, and Achilles kept walking next to him. Panicking hadn't helped him much in finding an answer, which was something that Achilles obviously wanted, the silence between them said enough.  
  
"I...-I don't know."  
  
It didn't work, of course; he heard Achilles huff from his nose. He walked just a bit more forward to see Pat's face, while Pat was desperately trying to keep it neutral. "You do know, Patroclus. It's why you've been avoiding me lately, right? It's why you ran away from the match!"

The worst weren't the words, it was the way Achilles spoke, and Pat once again realized that even still, in trying to avoid Achilles without hurting him, he'd failed horribly. Achilles' voice sounded strained and frustrated, how was he going to explain why?

_Wait a minute..._  
  
Pat was doing it again, wasn't he? Blaming himself again? Sure, Achilles was hurt, but hadn't he been unfairly treated by all of this as well? He probably had it even worse. The hallucinations, the words, the weird phenomenons they shared, they all made Achilles feel so good, so how could he possibly imagine how horrid they made Pat feel? How could Achilles know that Pat had restless nights thinking about him? That he felt gross thinking of Achilles in that way? Even worse, Pat seemed to have gotten the attraction to Achilles from his previous life, and Achilles hadn't followed. Achilles didn't love him back, did he?

"I'm done with this!" he snapped back, then, turning to face Achilles with narrowed eyes. They both stopped walking.

Achilles was there, right in front of him, and to Pat's confusion, he didn't seem surprised. "Okay, but why?!"  
  
"I don't owe you an explanation."  
  
He didn't want to admit to all of these embarrassing things out loud, to be laughed at, to be judged.   
  
Thinking that a quick escape was the best course of action, Pat started moving again, only to be stopped by an arm placed firmly in front of him.

"Oh I think you do, Patroclus. I think you and I need to have a serious conversation about the fact that you've been avoiding me for the last few weeks for no reason." And with that, Pat was moved closer to the wall, cornered by the other's body. Memories of the last time Achilles had done this to him came to mind, and once again, Pat felt himself shrinking. He hated it, he didn’t want to be seen as weak. Achilles held his stare. "We won't be able to solve this mystery if we're not cooperating."  
  
Solving this mystery? Wasn't it clear already?  
  
Pat breathed in through his nose, pushing himself away from the wall which instantly caused Achilles to move back. "I already solved it for you," he said quickly. "We are _not_ reincarnated."  
  
"You're wrong, you know," Achilles said, pointing to the booklet. "I made notes, and it clearly suggests-"  
  
"We're not reincarnations of them, Achilles!" Lack of sleep was wearing on his patience just then, and the look on the other’s face wasn’t helping.

"So why aren’t we?"

"Because-because you're nothing like that Achilles." Pat's hands were balled into fists now, he was tired and moody, and he was ready to tell this guy a piece of his mind. Why him? Why Achilles out of all people to have this with?   
  
"I think I am."  
  
Pat let out a cynical laugh. "Sure you are."  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
Quickly, he put his hands on his sides. "Oh yeah? So you think you're a demi-god? You think you could win wars against entire armies? You're the best of the Greeks?"  
  
Achilles seemed briefly confused, knitting his eyebrows together and shaking his head. "No, no I didn’t say that, now you’re just putting words in my mouth!"  
  
Pat felt his face getting hot, and with a loud voice, he started talking. "But it's true! You're nothing like him and I am everything like Patroclus! I’m weak, I can't fight, I'm seen as a nobody by, like, _everybody_ , and the most frustrating part, is that I got the feelings with it and you didn’t! Nothing! I'm the one losing sleep over this, I’m the one left feeling sick over the ways I think of you, and all you get on your side is some hallucinations that make you feel good! Do you see the problem? I don't like it and it's frustrating!"

There it was, all of it out in the open, and all Achilles did was chuckle.  
  
"It's not funny!" Pat's face got heated again, and partially, he just wanted to punch the bastard in the face to make him realize how serious this was. That'd teach him.   
  
"You haven't read a word of this, have you?" Achilles held out the booklet, his stare earnest. It confused Pat but did make him feel less uncomfortable.

"No, I haven't."

"Well, I wish you did." Achilles flipped through the crumpled notebook until he reached a particular page, looking at Patroclus, and Pat was surprised to see that hint of softness in it. "I've been comparing Patroclus' writing of Achilles with me, especially the moments that describe how mutual their love was, and I believe it's divided pretty well between us, it was just more of a shock for you, that's all." 

Patroclus didn't really feel like he understood, but nonetheless, he nodded. Now he wanted to see where this was going.  
  
Achilles cleared his throat and started reading the entries aloud. Luckily, he seemed to feel Patroclus's embarrassment over it, lowering his voice, comfortably leaning just a tiny bit closer...

"During the few weeks I've been spending with Patroclus, I have realized that more has developed than the hallucinations and the words we've heard. No, it almost seems that the hallucinations are becoming real, not in the way that I will return to that age with the previous Patroclus, but in the ways that I am sharing previous Achilles' feelings. I can sometimes feel the emotions of the other Achilles like a distant memory in my mind when I am with him, it is a terrifying but good feeling-" 

Pat had taken the booklet from Achilles' grip. "Why haven't you told me this?" he asked, after really reading it. It couldn't be a joke, could it? 

"You.. were uncomfortable with it. I figured any mention that I felt the same would push you away even more, I didn't know if you'd be grossed out by it, my dad told me you were upset when he suggested we were together, and-"

Pat's could feel himself heating up again, and he hid his face into his hands. "Oh my god I'm sorry, I thought you would be weirded out! I mean, guys often feel uncomfortable when I tell them I'm gay and then... I don't know, I was afraid you'd respond badly and it'd be worse."  
  
"I've never responded badly, have I?"   
  
Pat looked back to the other again and, after a moment, shook his head. "You've been so kind." The tenseness and annoyance coiled so tightly within him slowly began unraveling, now. Achilles certainly had his ways to calm him down. "I was distant because I just felt uncomfortable sharing it with you. Especially after what happened at the medieval fair, I just didn't want to hurt you."  
  
Achilles laughed again, and it shocked Pat that he'd felt it before he'd heard it, only to notice how close Achilles was. "I'm glad I’m not alone in that, what do you think about real communication from now on?"

There was only one answer, wasn't there? For the first time, Pat felt like he could really trust Achilles to not be judgmental, especially after the scene he'd made in the canteen, especially after Achilles admitted that, just like Pat, he had felt the same attraction towards him. Gently, he nodded, but Achilles stayed put, waiting for them to lock eyes again.

When they did, those gorgeous lips broke out into a grin. "If we're being honest right now, how much are you into a kiss?"

It was very direct, in Pat's opinion, but he realized it wasn't in bad taste at all, and for a moment, his own smile broke out. "I think you'd catch my lie instantly, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."   
  
"You may guess," he answered, and from the inside, something was cheering.  
  
This is what he wanted, wasn't it? Or was it what the phenomenon between them wanted?   
  
Did it matter?  
  
No, it didn't, not now, not with Achilles, who was smiling as bright as the sun, and whose eyes were fixed on him. And so, once again, he gave in and shyly reached out for his hand.  
  
Achilles’ fingers boldly tangled with his, then he leaned in and met Pat halfway, the first touch of lips coming as a shock.

There was apparently some miscalculation in the distance between them, causing the two to feel each other's teeth through lips and pull away, their lips now ghosting over each other’s. Pat waited until Achilles got the message, gripping his hand against the second shock when he recaptured Pat's lips. That was why he’d needed it, the thick, syrupy feeling from before covered his senses, numbing him until his surroundings began fading away.

That was when it started.

Achilles' lips were slowly moving against his, savouring the moment, taking their time as Pat's lips followed, and then, all of a sudden, it felt like a rug was pulled out from under him. He smelled the salty air of a beach, felt the nervosity of a first kiss, but before he could truly wonder what was going on, it changed into the earthy smell of a cave, light-pink hues dancing in front of his eyelids, a body pressed against his. It changed again, and Pat was back at the rock again, the memory of a golden smile engrained in his mind and soft lips still curiously moving and experiencing. 

He wondered if it was still his Achilles he was kissing. Was he with him?   
  
As if Achilles felt his hesitance, a hand found its way firmly on his waist, and with a shaky movement, Pat moved a little closer, only to find the other encaging him. Reassuring, it was, that his Achilles was there.  
  
It flashed before his eyes again, quicker this time. The smell of leather, pressed against a sweaty body in a tent, the smell of iron and blood, the first kiss after battle. It changed every second, images and experiences flashing before his senses. But then, as Pat let it pull him under, the numbing feeling blinded him, and everything went black. He no longer felt Achilles’ touch, and Pat's breath caught in his throat for just a second. He was on the brink of panicking. What was happening? Was he losing consciousness?  
  
He was about to try pulling away as much as he could with the numbness stilling his limbs when a warm pressure on his hand pulled him back in, and as quickly as the darkness appeared, it made place for something else. The presence of Achilles was glowing, taking over, it felt warm and yet reviving, coaxing him back under control.

All of a sudden Pat found himself back in the hallway, the cold and unwelcoming wall slamming against his back. As he tried to get used to his surroundings again, a warm hand cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet green eyes.

"You okay?"

When had he stopped busying himself with those lips? Pat glanced down to see a healthy red hue on the other’s. He would smile if it wasn't for the sudden unpleasant pressure against his forehead. He was panting. "I do hope you felt that too." 

"What, your lips against mine?" Achilles' gaze was mock-confused, and at Pat's glare, it changed into something amused. "Of course I did, Patroclus. Do you want to hear my thoughts on it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're a good kisser."   
  
Pat let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head.

Achilles wasn't done though, his face fell more serious. "No, it's just... I think the things we experienced before were just the beginning. That was.. overwhelming."

"It was." Pat agreed, placing his head back against the wall, glad that he was able to catch his breath now. "I hope it doesn't happen again."  
  
"Well, we do have experience with this, we know that the same thing never happens twice." 

Achilles was right, Pat could recall the frustrated little faces the other had made during their fig experiment well enough.

Achilles was less affected, once again, but Pat knew better than to be spiteful about it. Achilles had always been very patient with him, and even now didn't seem judgmental at all. The moment of silence between them now was enough to let Pat’s mind wander.

They had kissed. It was almost unbelievable. Pat had never expected Achilles to look twice at him if it hadn't been for those weird occurrences, but now, Pat was convinced it was more than that, it certainly was to him.   
  
He was pulled back from his thoughts by the feeling of arms wrapping around his waist, and before he could say anything, lips pressed against his again in a brief but pleasant kiss. He could see Achilles shyly scanning for his response, only for that bit of doubt to leave when he saw Pat trace his own lip with his thumb.

"How about that lunch?" Achilles' tone of voice sounded so warm now, and Pat's face broke out in a toothy grin that mirrored the other’s, his tiredness long forgotten.

"Certainly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments or questions about this chapter? You can always find me on [My Tumblr!](http://achilltatos.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Chapter 7! I hope you're enjoying the story just as much as i enjoy writing it!  
> I'm so excited to see the feedback on my chapters, and i recently also hit a milestone with over 5K hits! I can't be more proud!  
> Happy reading!  
> Achilles  
>  _Patroclus_

About fifteen minutes after ordering, the waitress brought the first plate of sandwiches to their corner booth. For lunch hour in the middle of the week, the shop wasn’t too busy, and Pat found himself far more comfortable than he usually was in public. The reason? Achilles was in front of him. He'd mistaken his staring for expectation, and offered out their shared milkshake for Pat to take another sip. To his amusement, the only reason why they had gotten the chocolate milkshake was because of Achilles' excited gasp when he had found it on the menu.

"I'm fine, thank you. I don't think a chocolate milkshake will mix well with a grilled cheese."  
The face Achilles made in response to that confused him. Pat had to hold in a chuckle when he noticed Achilles slowly grabbed one of the sandwiches, dunking it into the glass and then taking a big bite.   
  
"Does it taste good?" he asked, but Achilles didn't do more than offer out another bite for Pat to take. "No, no!" That just gave him incentive to push it even further in front of his face, still happily chewing on his own mouthful. With one last warning gaze, Pat leaned forward and took a bite...  
  
He made a weird face. It didn't taste good. The bread had become soggy and certainly, the milk didn't work well with the cheese. The only thing that made it bearable was the way Achilles laughed, taking another sip of the chocolate milkshake. "Got you."   
  
"Good job, you convinced me to eat a soggy grilled cheese sandwich, you proud?"

"It certainly is a bigger accomplishment than the last race I won."

A second plate with more sandwiches was set in front of them, and the waitress looked at them curiously, pausing for a moment before turning to Achilles. "Was that a good combi?"  
  
The both of them bursted out laughing.  


*********

  
They talked for only an hour or so, as far as Pat was keeping track. Well, that was supposed to be it, but when his lack of sleep finally wasn't ignorable anymore by the presence of a harsh headache, it was significantly later in the evening.Pat had to interrupt Achilles' charming story of how he became so good at juggling, which was a pity, and raised his hand to ask for the bill. "I had tons of fun, I promise, but I haven't been sleeping well lately."   
   
"Maybe now, you will," Achilles replied.

Pat hadn't given him the cause, of course, but one quick glance and it was clear that he knew. "It's not your fault," Pat muttered, because really, he didn't want to make Achilles feel guilty. But after all, how bad could a guy feel about being too distractingly attractive as to make people lose sleep over it? What a thought.

"I never assumed it was. I slept wonderfully lately." The spark of jealousy was almost instantly dimmed by Achilles pointing at him. "That _is_ your fault, though." 

The memory of Achilles being relaxed by the words reminded Pat once again how much differently they had experienced it. For him, it had never seemed bad, had it? Unless...

Well, there were moments where it had been bad for both of them, wasn't there? Pat ignored the wish to ask and grinned, looking down at the table. "You're welcome."  
  
"Alright darlings, the bill. You gonna pay separately or...?" the waitress came back around to them, and Pat quickly shifted a bit back from his spot, pulling away the hand that had been hovering closer and closer to Achilles'. 

"Split, please-" 

"Not so fast, Patroclus," Achilles interrupted, taking the black leather booklet from her, and slipping a twenty bill inside. "I invited you, I pay."

The waitress was already gone before he could decline.

In some capacity, Pat wasn't used to the small kindnesses. Even Brianna forced him to pay for half of the groceries when he stayed over with her. That, along with the meager amount of pocket money he got from his parents and almost no possibility for a job due to all the time he had to spend studying, he did sometimes struggle. College would be the time to get a job, he was just looking forward to not having to ask his parents for cash. 

"Thank you, but you didn't need to." Even though he didn't have a lot, he liked the independence money brought.  
  
"Don't worry, you'll pay next time."

_Next time._  
  
Pat stood up when Achilles did, and pulled a face. "Oh, so there's a next time, then?" he asked, and Achilles nodded.

"Yes, there will be, and you'll be the one inviting me." With that, the blond-haired boy snatched the jacket from Pat's hands, taking a moment to prepare it before holding it in front of him, ready for Pat to put his arms through. People around them were watching curiously. Who wouldn't? The last time someone had done this to him was a few years ago, and it had been his mother. This time, the maternal reason has been swapped out for something romantic, and although it made Pat go a little quiet, he couldn't help but feel charmed. "Thank you," he said again, trying his best to put on his coat without making it awkward, which would've worked if it wasn't for Achilles turning him around and looking him over. He'd made an approving sound.

Then, Pat was pulled out of the diner, barely able to take in the experience of holding Achilles' hand. Achilles was a whirlwind, it seemed, and Pat was following the forces of it, always one step behind. Sure, it was reassuring to have someone so confident as company; it meant Pat wasn't the one forcing himself out of his comfort zone in fear of being too bland.   
  
"So, how far away is your house?" The question confused him a bit, because Achilles was already guiding him somewhere, wasn't he?   
  
"Uh, five minute walk, I suppose, but it's the other way..."

And with a quick movement that would have given anybody else whiplash, he was turned around again.

"You should've told me earlier then!" The tone of voice was anything but accusing, it sounded playful, joyful. Pat liked the lightness in it.

"I would have if you told me you wanted to bring me home!"

Achilles answered with a guffaw, and Pat felt pressure on his hand, a thing that made his cheeks heat up once again. Lucky for him, it wasn't easily seen on his skin. Achilles, on the other hand, had a healthy blush rising on his cheeks. It was warm today, though, and he was nervous from simply being with Achilles; he was mortified when his hand shifted. Pat pulled out of the grip. "I'm sorry, I have sweaty hands."

Achilles kept quiet for a bit. "Are you okay with me holding your hand?" It sounded strangely insecure.

"Yes, yes of course, I just. It's awkward if my hands sweat."

"Everyone sweats," was Achilles' response. Pat expected the other to take his hand again, but he didn't. "I'm sorry if I'm going too fast. You gotta warn me if I do, I won't mind."   
  
Ah, so that was it. Pat looked for anyone around them; he decided that moving out of his comfort zone would be fair. Achilles had been doing the same as well, he realized. It was new for them both, wasn't it?  
  
He took the other's hand, and Achilles responded by tangling their fingers together. He wasn't looking directly at him, but Pat could see the corner of his mouth tug up a little again.

 "Whatever you want, just hold my sweaty fingers."

"And you may enjoy mine too."  
  
In response, Pat swung their arms once, and Achilles responded by doing it excitedly back, to the point where Pat feared he would be knocked forward and lose his balance.  
  
Pat didn't live so big. His parents had reasonably well-paid jobs, so he couldn't complain about his simple two-bedroom house, attached to another one. He liked his neighbourhood, regardless that the usual residents were elderly couples. People could be judgmental, though, and since this was the first actual person he was with since Pat had defined his sexuality, it was all very new. He was risking something, there was no net to catch him if anything went wrong, he couldn't expect everyone to be screened beforehand, like he had done meticulously before coming out to his family and friends. All in all, the worst response he'd gotten was the blunt question whether or not he had a crush on one of his male friends. That guy, luckily, had moved before Pat heard more than rumours that he'd been talking bad about him behind his back.

"What number?" Achilles asked, interrupting their pleasant silence, and Pat looked around. He could see his house easily from the spot they were walking, pointing at the one with dark green decorations.

"37." Part of him wished to give Achilles wrong directions just so he could stay with him for a little longer, but sleep was tugging on his mind, and the idea of a nice warm bed was just a little more desirable than being with Achilles. Impressive, he knew.

"You know, I would've loved to stay with you for longer," Achilles mentioned conversationally. Pat didn't know why he might have said this. Was it a hint? It might've been, because the first thought that came to Pat's mind was the image of Achilles gently cradling him while he slept, which seemed to encourage his drowsiness even more as Pat yawned. 

"First date, Achilles, we didn't have some flying start because of our hallucinations," he muttered.

With a huff from the other, it was clear that he did not agree. "I'm sorry, but I don't know many couples who are this close after a first date."

"We're not a normal couple, though."

They entered the little garden in front of Pat's door.

"As I said." A smugness was in Achilles' tone, and Pat only then understood how silly his comment had been. He'd only proved Achilles' argument correct, had he not?

As a response, Pat rubbed his eyes, moving to the door and getting out his keys. It was unlocked in seconds, but of course, Pat lingered in the doorframe, turning around. Achilles had let go of his hand instantly when he needed to use two hands to find his keys, now standing there like he was expecting something.

Part of him wanted to invite Achilles inside, stay up for a little longer, maybe convince him to stay for the night, but he knew he shouldn't - not now. Not after such an exhausting day. He really needed some time to take it all in, and Achilles knew this as well.

Now, how to say goodbye?

After Achilles had asked for his thoughts on holding hands, and after all the shyness, their kiss in the school hallways - which, if he remembered correctly, didn't even happen entirely in the hallway - seemed about two dates away.

Nonetheless, he _really_ wanted a goodnight kiss.

"Have some good dreams, will you? And if you can't sleep, call me and yell at me until you get tired enough, okay?" Achilles said, magically making a smile appear on Pat's face. This boy really was godsent, wasn't he?

Well, if he had to believe in reincarnation, that might have been a good theory.

"Sure, I will." And yet, neither of them made a move to leave.

"So, do you.. want to kiss?" Achilles asked it softly, hesitantly, and the way he didn't look Pat in the eye while he said it was reason enough to answer positively.

"Sure, but you could've guessed _that_." Pat stood still after having learnt his lesson from last time, and waited for Achilles to approach, which he did swiftly; it wouldn't surprise him to hear later that he'd been wanting to do that for a while. New things were experienced this time, as Achilles was magnificent at finding good places to put his hands, Pat discovered.

His lips still tasted a bit like chocolate, warm and molding to Pat's with their movements, it must have only taken a few seconds, but so much happened that Pat partially feared that it had gotten dark outside sometime along the way.

And there he was again, Achilles, the most sunny grin on his face. "I'll see you soon, yes?"

"Yes, you will," Pat answered. No avoiding anymore, he didn't think that he'd even be able to handle doing so now.

With a small skip in his step, Achilles turned around, only looking back over his shoulder when he heard Pat's front door close behind him.

When Pat finally got into his bed, the memories didn't even have time to reach him before he fell asleep. It was no surprise what his dreams were about. 

 

*********

 

Achilles was staring at him.

To add to that, Achilles was staring at him and not even trying to hide it. Every time Pat looked up from his laptop screen, studying translations, the other met his gaze pointedly. He didn't give up. It was driving Pat just a little bit crazy. He wasn't used to the attention, he wasn't used to being looked at, and it made him feel increasingly self-conscious of the things he was doing.

So, after the third time of hesitantly meeting the other’s gaze, Pat opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to mind: “I must be boring by now, would you like to help me with the translations?” He'd hoped the raised eyebrow that followed after showed that he was just casually curious, and not feeling uncomfortable, but unfortunately, Achilles could see right through it, giving him a small apologetic smile.

“Sorry for staring, I just can’t help it. And uh, what part are you at now?” Achilles had sounded a bit quiet, uncertain, and as Pat looked at where he was, he realized why.

“Achilles just refused to fight with Agamemnon, I’m not there yet,” Pat assured, and tried not to let on that he'd seen his shoulders lower in relief.

It fell silent for a moment, and Pat decided that staring right into the other’s eyes until he started talking again may have been stupid, even though it _did_ work. “Okay, I’ll help," Achilles muttered then, and it seemed to take an eternity before he was comfortably settled against Pat's side, looking at the text. “Yours has so many old words, they translated mine like I'm reading a diary, to be honest."

It had become easier to wade through now that his distraction was also focusing on the same thing, but Pat still found himself having trouble focusing on the written Achilles instead of the one sitting next to him. How could he not? Especially when the other decided that communication was now supposed to be done through whispers, gently into his ear. Well, it was clear that Achilles had had an ulterior motive, but Pat didn't care, enjoying the attention the other was sneakily giving him.

But of course, Pat had to ruin it.

"Achilles?" He briefly scanned over the page he was now at, waiting until the other’s face appeared near the side of his.

"Yes?" A whisper, which encouraged Pat to put his finger on the dreaded words.

"He dies here."

He’d tried to not be too obvious in pulling back, that was clear, but it didn't work with Pat. His eyes followed Achilles as he leaned back in the seat, like it was limiting the amount of space he could get away from the book. "Oh."

Silence fell like a sickness between them, making it tough for Pat to breathe for a moment as he tried to consider the best way to breach the topic. This had to be talked about, it couldn't remain something that lingered above them all the time, waiting to drop.

"We need to talk about this."

Pat instantly felt a pang of guilt as he saw Achilles' eyes widen, and he withdrew from his side. "I don't want to,” he said, the usual softness in his voice disappearing for sharpness, a hint of reluctance catching Pat's attention.

His mouth felt dry. "You said no secrets, right? We'd talk it out from now on," Pat said, risking the misuse of those promises.

Luckily, Achilles just kept quiet for a bit instead of bursting out to refuse such a statement, but a few seconds turned into a minute, where all Pat could hear was the other's deep breathing. And then, with a sigh, Achilles looked at him, the colour of his eyes almost seemingly darker, like the moss coloured ground of a forest. "Not now, okay? Not in public, in a frickin' library,” he whispered, almost like a hiss, which unnerved Pat, as if Achilles would get a death sentence if he dared to speak against it now.

“Of course, as long as we talk about it,” Pat answered in a hushed tone, as if they weren’t already in the back of the library to prevent people from overhearing them.

Silence fell again, and just before he continued reading, his gaze followed Achilles’ round to his original spot on the other side of the table, where he stayed for a while saying nothing, all up until the point where he was right in Pat’s face again the moment he’d closed his laptop.

 

*********

 

To Pat’s surprise, the one who actually breached this topic again was Achilles, who texted him one Saturday evening after a heavy test week that he’d barely made, even with his meticulous planning.

The athlete had made it a routine to show up unannounced wherever Pat was, usually just as he was exiting class to return home after a heavy test. Often, it was welcomed, seeing as Pat had to get his mind off the endless doubts that followed him after his tests _somehow_. Achilles was able to erase those thoughts. One smile, and Pat’s ‘ _are you sure part 8 really had B as an answer?’’_ internal ramblings were gone. It was also a bad thing, though, because Achilles was mystifying, like a daydream washing over him, and it was often that Pat lost track of time while they were together.

With all the spots Achilles had taken him to, his house had never been one of them.

Until now.

Patroclus! Let’s meet up for our talk, yeah? What about a cup of coffee and a snack at my house? ;)

Pat’s first thought had been relief that he didn’t have to be the one to ask first, but from then on, a blind panic rose up once he realized what this invitation meant. Even though Pat hadn’t spoken a word of the secrecy of their relationship, there had been a silent agreement that neither of them would be very openly affectionate towards each other; at least not as much as they used to be before their relationship. Kisses had been shared beneath the staircases, or briefly in one of the empty student lavatory rooms.

It wasn’t tough to understand now why Achilles had decided to bring it up. To his cunning mind, it probably hadn’t been more than a way to get what he wanted; to be together, to create spots in his life where people _knew_ about them. Basically, it was as clear as ever that Pat wasn’t going to have to practice any secrecy.

_With your parents home, i presume?_

My oh my, hoping for an empty house?

Pat dropped the phone onto his desk, burying his face into his hands for a moment. Achilles _always_ found a way to slip in an inappropriate joke. A smug bastard, he was, but Pat could totally find the humour in it.

_I am not. I was just second-guessing that your motives for bringing this up first weren’t to clear things up. You want something back for it._

I have such a clever boyfriend.

But yeah, my dad will be home (unfortunately for you) so, will you be okay with me telling him about us, or…?

_No problem. So, when do you suggest?_

Monday evening? It’s when he's home.

_Text me the address and i’ll be there._

Pat heard the light movements of his mother walking around. She must have been hanging out the wet laundry, for she wasn’t upstairs very often. He wondered how his own parents would respond to the news of Pat having a boyfriend. They knew, to some extent, that Pat was interested in boys. He was out to many, but a part of him feared that they only accepted it as long as he wasn’t ‘practicing’ it, so to speak.

 

*********

 

Sunday passed with Pat snuggled in bed and watching movies. Part of him had already decided that his leisure time was starting to lose its strength if he spent it alone. It was foreign, Pat's willingness to spend most of his free time with somebody else.

He was surprised that Achilles was barely texting him back. They hadn’t gotten a chance to get together over the weekend as there had been no sporting events for him to come take a look at. Nonetheless, he did not invite him over, instead thinking about the way their next meeting would go.

 

*********

 

The next time he saw Achilles was after his first class. Pat had been walking to his locker, but found himself being dragged by Achilles into a custodian's closet within a few seconds, the smell of cleaning products stinging his nose as he breathed in deeply. His lips were too busy, you see. It was still something to get used to, the suddenness and the freedom to kiss Achilles whenever he wanted. Achilles didn't seem to have any issues with it.

Eventually Pat pulled away. He could barely make out the expression on the other's face, but he could’ve guessed it was a sunny smile once again. Achilles always looked at him like that.

Without much hesitation, Pat wrapped his arms around Achilles' neck and hugged him, his own slender body pressing against a firm and warm one. The sharp chemical smell of cleaning products was instantly exchanged with something heavy and sweet; Pat would guess figs.

"Good morning!" Achilles said in a bit of a curious tone, it was obvious he hadn't expected Pat to hug him as firmly afterwards. Pat felt arms wrapping around his waist in turn. "And why do I deserve this?"

Pat didn't wait to admit it; he’d been longing for the lightheaded feeling he got when he was with Achilles, the way he could look forward to even a test week if it meant seeing him more. "I missed you." He knew it wasn't usual for him to hug the other so tightly after a kiss, their usual meetup consisted of a kiss as greeting and a small conversation, but now it just felt different, he had needed it.

A brief moment of silence, before he was squeezed against the other. They didn't seem close enough, all of a sudden. This was nothing compared to… Compared to what?

"Hey, I missed you too."

Pat pulled away a bit to meet the other's gaze, smiling back for as much he’d be able to see it in limited light. It took him a little while before he could really make out the sharp greenness of his eyes, only to be interrupted by the feeling of something sweeping him off his feet.

He could feel Achilles’ arms tense around his waist as if it was an instinct, then Pat found himself in utter lonely darkness, with no dimness of light getting in, or the sound of students going from class to class.

No, it had been a while since he’d been here; Pat recognized the coldness in his chest, the depth and the fear that this was all there was - nothing. To his surprise **,** there was something of an expectation lingering in his mind, something that hadn't been there before back in the custodian's closet.

He wondered, was his body still pressed firmly against Achilles' chest, or was this all there was now? Would it end like last time?

It was a déjà vu, but Pat felt it was the third time, not the second time, that he had been there suspended in darkness. It started with the brief sensation of static, the consciousness of someone else hiding in the corner of his eyes, and Pat let himself get pulled to it.

There were no steps to be taken. Pat feared that the concept of ground didn't even exist here. He reached out, sensing another's warmth nearby, and as his fingertips suddenly felt the smooth, warm skin of someone very familiar, Pat couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, the light suddenly almost as blinding as the darkness.

And then he was back, back in Achilles' arms, in a very sharp-smelling custodian's office, holding onto him for dear life. "I don't like that one," he heard Achilles mutter, who was looking straight ahead to the door. "And I think we know now that hallucinations can occur twice, don't you think?" Pat didn't say a word, simply nodding. "Are you okay?" was the next question asked, and if Pat had the nerve to speak, he'd have said 'I am now', for Achilles was there. The loneliness that had seeped into his skin had left, making place for the endless warmth that was being with Achilles. "You have class soon."

"I do," Pat said quietly, without any trace of reluctance or annoyance in it, just answering the other's statement.

There was a brief moment where they said nothing whatsoever, but the topic came up once again, and Achilles let go of him. "Come on, you should go, but first, we need to get out of this closet without being seen."

It wasn't a real challenge. Pat wondered how often Achilles had hid in spots like this with a lover - lover, how weird to think Achilles thought of him like that. They were able to slip through just as the students were too busy to notice, and one brief squeeze of his hand as a goodbye marked the end of their meeting.

 

*********

 

They met again after Pat's last class of the day. He was leaving the building with Brianna, who was mumbling something about the biology teacher's obvious mistake on something to do with chromosomes, when he spotted Achilles leaning against one of the school's ping-pong tables. He only approached when Pat smiled at him and waved his hand, and he'd even stopped to greet Brianna briefly. "So, ready to go?"

This interrupted Brianna's obvious plan in ignoring Achilles for as long as he ignored her, and stubbornness made place for curiosity. "Where are you going now, then?" she asked, her chin raised in some kind of reluctance, as if she simultaneously couldn't stop herself from asking but also didn't really care for the answer.

Pat hesitated a moment, but decided that if Achilles was going to tell his parents about.. them.. then telling Brianna would only prepare him for what was to come. "We're meeting Achilles' parents, he's telling them about us," Pat said, surprised that Achilles had suppressed his answer till now.

"We're together."

A moment of silence fell, in which Pat didn't know whether Brianna was going to be excited or utterly displeased. Luckily, the silence was interrupted by her laughter. "I told you he was cute! Look at you now!" she said, and relief washed over Pat, letting himself be pulled against Achilles' side by a firm arm around his waist. Achilles seemed just as relieved at the response.

But it was time to go, and Pat looked just a bit guiltily at Brianna, who got the hint. "Call me later, Pat. This is a story I wanna hear." With a rush of messy hair and a thin raincoat, Brianna was gone, leaving Achilles alone with Pat.

"Let's go, my house is only two bus stops away," he muttered. They left with an arm still wrapped around Pat's waist; he loved the attention he was getting.

The bus had many seats available by the time they got on. It seemed it was his lucky day as Achilles led them to a small bench that only seemed to have been made for either one very broad person or for only one and a half people. For Achilles, this meant that they could squeeze against each other as close as they wanted. It was a good excuse, Pat had known because of all spots, Achilles had chosen this one.

Maybe that was what he liked of the other, the sheer transparency in his actions. There was never something hidden behind them, and if there was, it became clear instantly.

"How do you think your dad will respond?"

Pat asked, a faint pang of nervousness coming up in his gut after they passed the first bus stop. One more stop and they'd be at his house.

Achilles didn't really say anything at first, humming to let Pat know that he was thinking about it. "Positively. There's a reason why my dad already told you he was fine with it, I bet he's secretly hoping I come home with someone who's so responsible and kind." The last part was spoken in a hushed tone, obviously meant as a compliment. It worked, as Pat was flattered to think that other people's parents would find him a good influence.

When the bus finally stopped in front of their destination, Pat wasn't nervous anymore.

 

*********

 

Achilles' house was nothing like Pat's. It started with the fact that his house was not attached to the neighbour's house. It was also large, with beautiful white walls and big windows, and with a gravel path leading to the front door. Achilles opened the door for him, waiting for Pat to enter, which he did so hesitantly. He didn't know what to expect.

A rough voice came from somewhere in the house, making Pat stop in his tracks. "Achilles?!"

"Yeah it's me! I brought Patroclus!"

"Ah! I'm in the kitchen!"

Pat took his shoes off before Achilles could say anything about it, walking over the white tiled floor. The other didn't go to the kitchen right away, though, instead guiding Pat to put his stuff near a chrome coat hanger. He briefly pecked his cheek. "It's going to be fine, okay?"

Pat thought that he had been able to hide his nervousness well enough, but apparently not. It was only an assumption that Achilles had seen it, though. Something in Pat's gut told him that with just a little practice, he could feel Achilles' giddiness without even looking at him.

Achilles then guided him through a long hallway into a beautiful open kitchen, the walls on the side near the dining room made of glass and looking over a quite impressive garden. Achilles' father was cutting up some vegetables, and he paused to greet them.

He was, however, quickly interrupted by Achilles. "Dad, we wanted to tell you something." Pat's nervousness went from 0 to 100 once again, looking down to avoid the man's gaze. He only kept himself focused on Achilles' hand in his when he reached for it. "We're together." Pat only squeezed the other's hand as harshly as possible in what Pat would later call payback, for not warning him beforehand.

"Ohh... That is wonderful." The other's voice had almost become cooing, soothing Pat slowly to the point where he dared to look up, right into a soft smile. "I told you I'd be okay with it, I'm happy for you two."

Pat didn't know what to say. What do you say in such a situation? He thought a word of gratitude would he in place, doing so softly. "Thank you."

Which the man instantly declined. "No need to thank me for being a reasonable human being. You two are good for each other, it was meant to be." Achilles' father looked at them for a moment before glancing at the vegetables again. "Hey, I should really get back to that if you want some tacos before it gets too late. Achilles, why don't you show him the house?"

A firm squeeze of the hand and a quick nod of the head to his father, and they were out of the kitchen. Pat looked curiously at Achilles even when they stood still in the hallway again.

"I told you it was easy," Achilles said, and Pat couldn't help but laugh the nervousness away, being guided into Achilles' arms without hesitation and pressing a kiss on the other's cheek.

"I suppose you're happy."

"Can't be happier." In an instant, Achilles' arms were gone and he was being dragged away again to a big wooden door, which lead them to a collection of heavy, rug-covered stairs. "Come on, I have something to show you," Achilles said in excitement, and just as before, his emotions were so genuine and contagious that Pat couldn't help but share that giddiness for what he was going to be shown.

The upper floor seemed, to Pat's surprise, even larger. Pat thought for sure it had to be the build of it; a big open hallway with big windows and a pair of paintings on the wall. Pat barely had time to look at them, as Achilles was pulling him further down the hall to a big white door with enough stickers of athletics clubs on it that Pat was certain it would be impossible to pull them off without ruining the paint.

And of course, it was Achilles' room.

It was a typical teenage boy room; there was a tv with a comfortable bean bag chair in front of it, and a desk filled with books and printed papers with information which Pat guessed were school assignments and athletic camps. Something of a distinction was made with the way the walls were decorated; shelves cluttered with cups and prizes, endless medals hung on nails, all carelessly set down.

Achilles noticed where Pat's eyes were lingering, moving to a long shelf where most of his trophies were on display. He sniffed in derision. "It's almost a waste to not use them as drinking cups, wouldn't you say?" he joked. Pat nodded. The only prize he'd ever won was for a pop quiz two years ago, and the only reason why he'd won was because it had been unexpected and everyone had come unprepared. Besides, his reward had only been a bag of candy and a plastic medal, nothing more.

Pat scanned the room for more interesting things, the colours of Achilles' room the same as the colours of his jersey, which hurt Pat's eyes just a little. He spotted something wooden in one corner of his room, moving closer to it and realizing that it was a guitar. He vaguely remembered Brianna talking about it before, but he had completely forgotten about it.

"You play?" As Pat turned to Achilles again, it was still a bit of a shock to see that the other hadn't stopped looking at him the entire time.

"Yes, I do. I'm not extremely good, but I can play." 

It was almost a surprise the other wasn't a rockstar, too.

Pat went quiet for a moment to look around again. Achilles was a big mixture of talent, both athletically and intellectually. It had been brought up before, that although the other sucked at Biology, he was skilled at foreign languages and politics, subjects that Pat just barely got passing grades in.

It had been ages since that particular brand of doubt filled his mind, but once again, Pat found himself awfully nervous when he compared the two of them. Not by Achilles; never by Achilles would he be compared or judged for his differences, but others...

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and Pat instinctively moved away to make room for Achilles, who fished his guitar from the corner and showed it to Pat. "Wanna hear?"

He nodded. Achilles signed for him to sit down on the bed, then came to sit next to him, guitar on his lap. Pat watched him adjust the tuning pegs.

"1, 2, 3.." The first strum of the guitar and Pat found himself growing even quieter, the music filling his thoughts. At first, it was only the melody of strings, but then slowly, Achilles started humming along to it, in a soft singing voice that he'd never expected to hear from him. Pat started observing Achilles closely, admiring the way he looked so focused on the task at hand as his fingers miraculously moved to put the right pressure on each string.

He didn't recognize the song. For all he knew, Achilles had composed his own and was performing it for him. Whatever it was, Pat couldn't keep his eyes off of him. His feelings were a bit mixed when Achilles eventually stopped, with eyes on him but his hands still on the guitar. Part of him was sad that his intimately small one-on-one concert had ended, but on the other hand, there was nothing to distract Achilles now, and his eyes were on him again.

"So?" he asked, sounding so hopeful and giddy that Pat couldn't resist shifting closer to Achilles and taking the guitar from his hands, gently putting it aside. Before Achilles could even voice whatever made him open his mouth, Pat was there to stop him, leaning over to press their lips together in a warm and dragged out kiss. It had come to him abruptly, and he didn't even know what he had planned by taking the guitar from Achilles' hands until a firm handed guided him closer.

Clumsily, but not embarrassingly so, he found his way onto Achilles' lap, legs on either side of him. There was a hint of inappropriateness in it; if the door opened now, if anyone walked in on them, Pat knew what it looked like.

The feelings of embarrassment left as soon as a pair of eager arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to Achilles' body. Even though the other was lower than him and had to tilt his head up to reach his lips, Pat still felt the illusion of the other cocooning him, and he couldn't help it, he found himself wanting to be closer again. There was no way to get any closer than they already were.

Their kiss had become lazy about halfway through, their minds wandering to more than just the other's lips, his fingers exploring the muscles in his shoulder. Pat's attention had only returned to the kiss again when Achilles' lips parted with a hint of tongue.

He was able to hide the small flare of panic at something new happening, and pulled away, just in time to see the other's lips still formed in a kiss with his eyes still closed. "Too soon," Pat whispered, and how long had he been deprived of oxygen to be panting now?

"Okay, that's fine."

And that was all Pat really needed to hear, staying pleasantly close to Achilles' chest and leaning his chin on his shoulder, ignoring the possibility of kissing the exposed skin he found there.

"I should play guitar for you more often." Achilles' tone was light, a small trace of smugness easily sensed. "If it makes you kiss me like _that?_ God, I'd serenade you every day."

Pat let out a groan, hiding his face in the other's neck, but _not_ kissing it, even if his lips were so close to being able to.

Achilles had wanted to say more, but luckily, the both of them were able to hear Achilles' father from the kitchen.

"Hey lovebirds! You comin'?"

Pat crawled off Achilles' lap as soon as he could, looking just a bit embarrassed as the other pecked his cheek and caught his wrist, pulling him downstairs. Pat really had to find a way to tell Achilles that their abilities to run were extremely different. He found himself far more interested in catching his breath before he even bothered to care about the tacos the man had made for dinner.

 

*********

They all learned something about each other over dinner. Pat learned that Achilles' dad had been a single father for about five years after his wife had left him, mostly taking care of Achilles except for the occasional dinner on special days that his mother invited him. Achilles learned that Pat was horrible at eating tacos, to his amusement, and his father? His father learned that, of all the people Achilles could have chosen to fall in love with, the boy sitting across from him nervously trying to scrape the vegetables back into his taco, was perfect for him.

  *********

 

Pat had to drag Achilles away after dessert. The other had been dragging on the conversation, trying to get more time before the inevitable would happen - their conversation. Achilles would talk about it, after having avoided the topic for so long, Pat was sure of it.

The low hissing of the bean bag chair filled the room as Achilles flopped on it, looking mildly discomfited at Pat.

"Come on, we need to get this over with," he tried, not really knowing where to sit, eventually just choosing the bed, looking at Achilles as he crossed his legs.

"I saw you die in front of me." It was blunt, and Achilles seemed pretty composed considering that, earlier, he couldn't even be reminded of the event ever happening. "There was a spear sticking out of your stomach, your skin had this eerie colour, and -  blood, so much blood." Achilles' voice broke briefly.

Pat had to resist getting closer. "I felt like I was dying, what did you feel?"

"Absolute terror, fury, I wanted to kill whoever did this to you, wring their neck-" Achilles hesitated in his words, and Pat suddenly realized the other's knuckles had become white by squeezing his own thigh. When he looked back up, he saw the small hint of tears in the corners of Achilles' eyes, and he immediately moved away from the bed to kneel in front of him. Carefully, not wanting to disrupt his story, he placed his hand on top of Achilles' until he loosened his grip. He went in for a hug, easily convincing the other to fall into the embrace. "He was everything to him, Patroclus. His friend, his lover, his partner in _everything,_ and it was taken away from him," he whispered into the crook of Pat's neck, and Pat felt himself nod.

"Myths rarely end happily, Achilles. They met each other again, we know they did." He could guess it by the hallucination they'd had in the janitor's closet, the only one that they'd experienced more than once.

"This will not happen to you, will it?"

It confused him. "Of course not. Well, I'm not invincible, nor am I immortal, but I'd never put myself through a battle like that, no."

Achilles was heaving by the time he found his voice. "Promise me."

The feeling of familiarity confused Pat briefly, but then the other was pressing his tear-stained face into Pat's shirt, and all he could do was hold him tighter. "I promise. I'll stay with you as long as I can."

Achilles' throat clicked when he inhaled. "It was terrifying, Patroclus."

"I know, but I'm here now, alive and well." He tried to look as calm as possible when he felt the other pull away to look at him again, and smiled a little, brushing away the wetness on Achilles' cheeks with his thumbs as he cupped his face.

 And it was perfect, because soon enough, Achilles was kissing him again and holding onto him, warm and firm. It surrounded him, cocooned him once again, even if Pat was the one holding _him_ in the hug.

It was as if the kiss had sealed his promise, to never get into anything dangerous before he was in his twenties. To never leave was a different story, something a teenager of his age shouldn't make promises about, but he supposed Achilles realized this too.

When they parted, Achilles wasn't crying anymore, just smiling a bit sadly. "Philtatos, that's what they called each other, right?" he whispered, as if insecure.

Whatever response he was expecting out of Pat, all he could do was stay quiet, heart racing faster than ever. "I don't know exactly, I think it's mentioned somewhere at the end..." He cursed himself for the high pitch of his voice, but calmed down when all Achilles did was smile.

"Philtatos, beloved, that's you."

 

*********

 

Pat didn't know how long they stayed there in that bean bag chair. It seemed very short, but at the same time like an eternity had passed. They laid there on their sides, facing each other, their noses almost touching and their hands sometimes reaching out. Pat had his knees tucked up so his shins were against Achilles' thighs, still tucked in that space as both Achilles and the remainder of the bean bag's filling surrounded him.

 "So, you know how I've been practicing for a big match lately, right?" Achilles whispered, for they hadn't been speaking at a normal volume for a while, it would disrupt the calmth if they did so.

Pat simply nodded, because Achilles was busy playing with his dark curls, and he didn't trust his voice when the other touched him.

"My coach approached me last week. Apparently, I'm allowed to bring a friend with me, for like, moral support, since I'll be gone for a while." Pat inhaled on his next thought, but Achilles stopped him before he could even get a word in. "Hold on, I prepared an entire speech to convince you, listen first." Pat had wanted to say yes anyway, but he supposed it was good to know what exactly he was saying yes to, even if the prospect of being with Achilles as an important person was enough for him to accept the offer in the first place.

"We'll be near the coast, they reserved this beautiful house at a summer park, we'll have our own bungalow. There are also two bedrooms, if you get tired of me..." A scoff left Pat's lips before he could stop himself, which was rewarded with a poke on his nose. "So, what do you say, wanna spend your time sharing a bungalow with your boyfriend and watching him win races?"

Was there any other answer possible?

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Liked this chapter? Have some questions/comments? Feel free to send me an ask on my Tumblr!](http://achilltatos.tumblr.com/)  
>  PS: The milkshake thing was inspired by my friend Dracotm convincing me once to try chips in cola, it did not taste good.  
> This story is slowly coming to an end, after chapter 8, it's an epilogue and then we're done! I have many plans for the future, chapter 9 will not be the end of these guys' story! I promise!  
> Also i'm not saying you **should** listen to it, but if you're really interested, Everlasting Arms from Vampire Weekend is an excellent song fitting Patrochilles, i'm not writing the rules here.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four months, that's how long it took to write this _monster_ of a chapter for you guys. I counted, there are 10,195 words in this chapter, that's RIDICULOUS.
> 
> [Click here for a beautiful Patrochilles playlist made by my friend and Beta Lara, maybe to read during the end chapter of this journey](http://8tracks.com/dracotm/we-were-like-gods)
> 
> And last, but not least, i wanna thank the person who has shown such continuous support through this entire project, that i'm certain i would have never gotten this far without her. Thank you so much, [Susan](http://achillae.tumblr.com/), for putting your magical editing skills at work, for putting about as much effort in this fic as i did, it's appreciated.
> 
> And to the readers, thank you for your continuous support, and to that person who sent me an anonymous message that said 'have you given up on Lux?', this is a school example of spite at work.

Pat didn't wake up before his alarm; it had been a while since this happened. It rang and rang loudly, and Pat remembered once more why he preferred to wake before it.

His limbs felt heavy, eyelids as well, and he needed about five minutes of gathering his strength before he found the remote willingness to sit up. He’d fallen asleep with his phone laid next to him on the pillow after texting with Achilles. Pat had been kept up all night, but he wasn't blaming the messenger, he was blaming the athlete who would be standing in front of his door in half an hour.

He’d been packing all evening for an almost three-day-long trip away from the house. Achilles had been unsure of the weather, and had asked countless questions (Will we have time to go swim? Don't forget your swim trunks! Will you bring a good book with you? Bring your headphones, I have a splitter!) to the point where he’d unzipped his bag countless times to shove more things inside upon Achilles’ request.

Pat stood up, shivering at the cold that seeped up from the floorboards, and then proceeded to take a shower. He wanted to show Achilles he was well-prepared and excited, and the best way of doing so was looking presentable.

  ** _*****_**

Breakfast was more like waiting; Pat spent the time making some sandwiches for the bus ride in case Achilles had been wrong about the organization providing food. Now he was waiting with a half-eaten sandwich in front of him at the kitchen table. His stomach wasn’t awake yet, providing him with a feeling that suggested he’d swallowed a bag of air.

His mother had woken up with him, asking about some more important stuff and if he was sure he’d packed everything, which was considerate of her, though nerve-wracking because of the way it made him doubt himself.

When a loud honk came from outside, Pat filled his backpack with the sandwiches, then proceeded to wish his mum a happy three-day break from him. She excused him with a wave of her hand saying she'd miss him. A moment later, the bell rang. Pat grabbed his suitcase on the way to the door, finding a smiling Achilles in front of him; his smile was so wide it stretched his cheeks. It seemed a ridiculous feat.

"Good morning,” he said softly, and Achilles seemed ready to lean in to let their lips meet when he noticed Pat’s mum by the staircase. He glanced briefly between her and Pat’s lips before wishing her a good morning instead.

Pat's mother had been curious about this Achilles he’d been talking about for so long, and Pat found them trapped by the front door. She questioned Achilles, wished him good luck with his matches, made an off-handed comment that Pat was not as athletic as he was, and finished complimenting him. She asked if there was a love in his life, which Achilles all patiently answered.

"Yes, I'm very glad to be with them."

After a pointed meeting of eyes between Pat and Achilles, his mother seemed to finally concede, kissing Pat's forehead and warning him to not do anything dangerous, which almost made Pat scoff. The one she should be saying that to was Achilles, who always dragged him off to such things.

And then it was time to go, with Pat reaching for his suitcase. (Un)fortunately, Achilles beat him to it, rolling it off the small porch and looking expectantly at Patroclus. "Well, you comin'?"

Pat said one last goodbye to his mother and then put on his backpack, hurrying to catch up with Achilles. He was truly unstoppable as soon as he got excited about something.

The suitcase was thrown in the trunk and Pat was ushered into the back seat by Achilles, who followed him in. The only real complaining came from his father, though. "I'm not a taxi driver, am I?" he teased, but then waved at Pat's mother, which Pat did too, faster when they finally drove away.

It was at this moment Achilles’ excitement dropped like a bomb. He pulled Pat forward into his arms and laid a thick, wet kiss on his lips, which forced Pat to rub off the excess saliva. "Bleugh, don't do that."

"Nice to see you too, Philtatos," Achilles said, and the casual pet name was enough for both of them to brighten up. He could hear Achilles' dad chuckle lightly at them.

The excitement of this track competition had been stirring in his stomach for the past week, but now it got even worse as they drove to the team’s meeting place.

Out of nowhere a phone was pushed in front of his face, and Pat looked curiously at what he was being shown. He recognized the button of the camera app and yes, soon enough, his face came into view with an excited Achilles pressing against his side.

"A selfie, really?"

"Hey, I'm going on a trip with my boyfriend, let me enjoy it! Now say cheese!" Pat did as he was told, but after a few pictures, Achilles hummed in thought. The corners of Pat's mouth had already started hurting a bit, and Achilles frowned. "Hey Pat." Pat was still looking into the camera lens.

"Yeah?"

He could see the other turning his head towards him on the screen.

"I love you."

And with that, a set of lips pressed themselves on his cheek. Pat closed his eyes as he felt his face heat up.

"Perfect."

Pat took Achilles' phone from his hands and scrolled past the pictures they’d taken, making contemplative sounds along the way. He looked quite fake and his smiles had been tense, all up until the last picture, where it was genuinely bright and just a bit fond. "Well, if anything, you certainly know how to get me to smile.”

Achilles didn't reply, just winked at him, causing a laugh to roll from his lips.

They drove into the parking lot where a big bus was stationed, several people standing beside it with bags at their feet. Obviously, these would be their trip partners. He didn't know how to feel about that, for as much as he was open about his sexuality, Pat didn't feel like he was ready to be all too open about his relationship with Achilles around them. It was mostly because he didn’t want a bunch of straight guys making it uncomfortable, teasing them, asking them inappropriate questions.

That was why, when they were unloading their suitcases from the trunk, Pat pulled Achilles in behind the safety of the high covet. "Hey, for as much as I love being with you, can we keep it on a low pit for a while? It's honestly too early for jokes."

Although Achilles seemed briefly surprised, he nodded, pecking Pat's lips. "I'll just be the casual friend who doesn't know personal space, okay?" It made Pat laugh. They hadn't been seen as 'just friends' for far longer than they'd been in a relationship. Pat was the last to realize, it seemed.

"Be a good spy, yeah."

And with that, Achilles grabbed both their suitcases, not even listening to Pat's objections as he shut the trunk. He thanked his dad for the ride and his wishes of luck before rushing over to his teammates. Pat thanked Achilles' father as well, but didn't mimic Achilles in his loud “HEYYYY” to the others, simply joining in and greeting them all. Surprisingly, they didn't seem phased by the new addition to the group, and greeted him with excitement.

A shorter, broader guy with dark hair was the first to ask. "You're Patroclus, right?" The name had been slurred a bit with uncertainty, and Pat kept close to Achilles as a few sets of eyes focused on him.

"I'd rather you call me Pat. Achilles is the only one who calls me Patroclus, probably because he thinks it sounds fancy."

Another guy, who was even taller than Achilles, and was most likely a hurdler for the team, barked out a laugh. "Ace hates nicknames, Pat-"

Achilles pushed his shoulder. "Oi! What did I tell you about using that name?"

Ace?

Pat had to admit, it sounded ridiculous, but then again, he supposed the name Achilles _was_ complicated.

Their chatter was interrupted by the group leader calling for them to hand over their suitcases and to go enter the bus. 

**_*****_ **

The bus was nowhere near full. It was one of the nicer ones their school usually hired for extended trips, but even then, the seats far in the back were occupied by the usual group of obnoxiously loud kids. Achilles and Pat found themselves somewhere in the middle. To his surprise, Achilles had been the one to suggest it, and Pat wasn't about to complain.

"They're nice," he muttered after the discussion of how Achilles should sit against him had been covered.

_Literally_ covered, as Pat (who got the outside seat) had Achilles’ legs crossed over his own in casual lazyness.

Achilles needed a moment to draw the connection between Pat's statement and the people he had just met, seemingly not finding the word a fitting description. He smiled, nonetheless. "Yeah, they are. I've had my fair share of trips with 'em. They're okay."

For Pat it was really something. When he was with anyone else but Brianna, it was only him that started conversations, up to the point where it just wasn't worth it. Now, these guys were happy to get to know him, it seemed. Maybe the conversation wouldn't fall silent after only a few minutes, which was certainly a happy thought.

It was going to be a seven hour drive to their destination. According to Achilles, it was close to the sea, and they'd be staying at a bungalow park in the area. It sounded ridiculously romantic; perhaps that was mostly due to Achilles' constant reminders of them having a house all to themselves.

They passed the time by talking. Pat feared he was running through his conversation topics too quickly to stay interesting for an entire three days, but fortunately, Achilles had many questions of his own to contribute.

Sometimes, Pat even found rest in saying nothing for a while, and Achilles would settle with him. Then, he’d just let his touches do the work, playing with Pat’s hair or lacing their fingers together as he kissed each individual knuckle. It was all surprisingly sweet, and it wasn't long before Pat was suggesting if Achilles could maybe sit normal again, so he could touch something other than his legs.

It was a bit of a struggle, and Pat complained when the heel of Achilles' sneakers ended up hitting his knee, but afterwards Pat was able to lift the arm rest and press his side against Achilles. He pecked his cheek with an arm wrapped around his shoulder.

The travel went smoothly. With a small stop at a snackbar for lunch - at which Pat ate some of the sandwiches he’d made because he wasn't willing to stomach french fries at 1 in the afternoon - they only had three more hours to go.

Pat spent it reading the translation on his phone, this time with Achilles also reading over his shoulder and asking questions whenever something confused him. Sometimes, he’d glance out the window to find a complete change of scenery, from the city to wide open roads to an eventual drive past a forest.The beach was close, Achilles mentioned after a while. Pat only felt it when they’d opened one of the windows. It was the salty, fresh air, and the sound of seagulls. It was the first time it felt like summer to him; going on trips near the sea was the epitome of it.

Around fifteen minutes before arrival, the coach had gotten hold of the microphone. The speakers screeched in their ears when it was turned on, the high pitch making Pat and Achilles cringe. The coach cleared his throat.

"Okay kids! I'm excited to say we're almost at our destination! Achilles, your training will start an hour after arrival, so I suggest you settle down a bit and join us at dinner again, okay? I'll be handing out the planning for everyone when we arrive. Trevor, you start early in the morning, Jake? You and the rest of your team should work on team building later today with me, okay?" Pat looked behind him, and saw the shorter guy he’d talked to earlier chat with three other guys, who all seemed very excited.

"Okay guys, clean up your stuff, get ready to leave!"

Pat put his possessions into his backpack then turned to Achilles, who seemed just as excited as his teammates, looking out the window with a giddy smile. Pat didn't know what he was going to do with his free time once Achilles left to practice, but with a good book and a quiet environment, he was sure he could pass the time suitably. 

**_*****_ **

 The schedule that was pushed into his hands when he left the bus was meticulous and very clear. Pat didn't bother to look at the others' plannings, grabbing Achilles’ for himself.

  **Friday:**

**06:00** Departure

**14:00** Arrival

**15:00-17:00** First training on the sport's field

**18:00** Dinner, we will leave by bus

**21:00** Returning to the camping

**22:00** Suggested sleeping time, you don't want to be tired on your big day, right?

**Saturday:**

**09:00** Time to wake

**10:00** Breakfast

**11:00** Warm-up at sport field #1

**12:00** First match, track 5

**12:20** Second match, track 6

**13:00-17:00** Qualification matches

**17:30** Last Qualification match, i'm rooting for you!

**19:00** Dinner, with hopefully some winners!

**21:00** Bonfire event with other schools, marshmallows!

**22:00** Bedtime

**Sunday:**

**10:00** Time to wake up

**11:00** Warm-up at sport field #4

**13:00** Finals

**14:00** Prize handouts

**19:00** Dinner

**20:00-00:00** Party for the victors!

**Monday:**

**10:30** Time to wake up and pack

**11:00** Breakfast

**12:00-19:00** Travel back home

Pat, with enough experience to know what Achilles would be able to achieve, was already sure he had to keep his planning open for Sunday.

Achilles, without being asked, helped Pat carry his suitcase to their own little bungalow.

Unlocking the door and entering it, the both of them received a real treat: the bungalow was actually luxuriously big on the inside.

As Pat walked around on the hard wooden floor, he spotted the living room, testing the couch cushions and almost drowning in them. Really dangerous, he might never want to get out of them. He heard light footsteps behind him, the sound of Achilles following him around.

He was happy to find a small table with a few chairs. It would be the perfect spot to study and catch up with some missed schoolwork, though he feared Achilles would keep him busy and distracted in the next weeks.

Then, they found the main bedroom. It was fairly big, with a king-sized bed that was already very inviting. Pat then found himself being dragged down on top of the sheets, quickly following Achilles.

"Ahhh... This is the life..." Achilles said as Pat watched him lie down on his back, looking at Pat with a twinkle in his eyes.

"You get this every time?" Pat sounded surprised. Because really, this was luxurious. He hadn't expected their track team to get this kind of treatment when they were only so young, but then again, Achilles _was_ their prize-winning athlete.

"Sometimes. Other times, I'm rooming with three other people, but I'm glad this one is for us alone."

Something stirred in Pat's stomach in the way Achilles' voice lowered in the end. He was smiling back, unable to resist the urge to roll over to him. Achilles responded to it, and a firm pair of arms guided him along the way.

Pat hid his face in Achilles' neck on purpose. He’d been hiding himself from Achilles a bit, he had to admit. He felt guilty for declining and stopping his boyfriend whenever they got too far, so much it made him reluctant to even share a kiss in intimate moments like this.

He just needed more patience with himself, more time to get used to it…

"Patroclus?" Pat looked up from the spot in Achilles' neck he’d been staring at, and met Achilles' gaze again. He looked so happy. His eyes still possessed that mischievous glint, and the corners of his mouth were so far up it shouldn’t have been physically possible.

And with that, Pat’s worries seemed to disappear a bit; they seemed so small when they were together. Achilles was there to help, to listen, and to encourage him along the way.

"Hm..?"

"I hope you're okay with me kissing you now?"

Again, no hesitation. "Go ahead."

Achilles cupped Pat's cheeks, tilting his head to reach his lips. The spark in his stomach returned full on, encouraging Pat to settle closer. It wasn't like the first time they kissed, nor was it like the fifth, but every single one brought a new feeling with it.

It always remained careful and gentle when Achilles asked first, lips slow but firm moving over his own and pulling him in slowly. It was distracting. Pat didn't notice that the other had wrapped his arms around his waist until he was suddenly positioned on top of Achilles. Pat pulled away. A bit of doubt flickered across his face as he looked down to him, concerned at how slow Achilles was breathing under his weight. "I'm crushing you."

"No, you're crushing _on_ me, I'm fine." The joke took a moment to be taken in, but then Pat was laughing, daring to peck Achilles' lips again.

"You should go prepare for your training,” he muttered, hoping it wouldn't ruin Achilles' romantic mood. It didn't seem to, though he did get a playful jab into his side. He flinched, an elbow crashing against Achilles’ arm.

"Ow!"

"Fuck! Are you okay?"

A snort was Achilles' response, rubbing the sore spot. “I'm tough, don't worry.”

Pat huffed, his relief masked by faint annoyance. “Go prepare for your training, you idiot.”

Pat crawled off Achilles so he couldn't use it as an excuse to stay in his spot.

And luckily, Achilles stood up, taking off his shirt in the room first and throwing it into Pat’s face. “I'll be right back, then.”

How Achilles ever managed to get to the sports field in his sports gear in time was a mystery to Pat. The guy spent about forty-five minutes putting on shorts because he couldn’t stop asking attention from Pat.

Pat had eventually just stopped responding in hopes it would encourage Achilles to dress quicker, but that plan backfired on him. The amount of times he’d needed to send Achilles back to his task was uncountable on a pair of hands.  
  
Now Pat was lying on the bed, Achilles having left five minutes ago in a rush, leaving a silence behind that Pat hadn't experienced in a while. Maybe better, he already missed the noisemaker that was Achilles, how could he not?  
  
It was - according to the schedule - only two hours or something before he'd be back, just enough time for Pat to study some history. He liked the way Achilles never mentioned his tendency to spend his free time studying. It was a fresh state of mind compared to Brianna who threw the book off the table whenever she saw him with it.  
  
Pat forced himself off the bed in a rush of determination, shuffling to the small table he’d spotted earlier and grabbing his history book. History seemed far from his current state of mind, though. There were things to worry about in the future: his choice of college next year, the fact that Achilles was only three months away from graduating high school and, less far away, the outing of their relationship, so Pat didn't have to share kisses in janitor's closets anymore.  
  
A Pomodoro timer eventually helped him concentrate, and Pat closed the book with a good two chapters of summary well-written for the test next week.

Great timing, really, as he heard the front door slam shut. There, in all his glory, stood Achilles - still a little damp with sweat and grinning excitedly. Even in the way he was holding himself said enough - these matches were going to be easy.

“Hey Patroclus! Ohh.. I hope I didn't disturb you?” Achilles approached Pat, who was standing up to put his books away to make the message clear.

Nonetheless, he still said, “I was already done.”

Achilles was blocking his way now, grinning eagerly. It took Pat a while to understand what Achilles wanted him to do.

“How was training?” he asked.

“Easy? Amazing? Motivating? Everything! God, be ready to see me win tomorrow, I'm sure of it.”

Usually, Pat would’ve scoffed at the arrogance in Achilles' voice, but… It was true. He had yet to see Achilles lose, and something told him that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

“Congratulations, I can't wait,” Pat said, quite honestly. He leaned in to peck Achilles' cheek, which wasn't the best idea considering Achilles still hadn’t showered yet. Pat scrunched his nose. “Go shower, we have dinner in a bit, and I’m not going to be sitting next to you if you smell like this.”

Achilles only needed just _that_ little bit of encouragement before Pat found himself being pulled into his arms with a sound of complaint. Achilles’ skin felt sticky, and although he didn't necessarily smell of sweat, it wasn't pleasant either.

Pat responded by pulling out of Achilles' arms, going right into the bathroom where he locked himself in, lucky that he had already put his shower gels and such inside. “I'll shower first, then!” he shouted, laughing at the little annoyed sound Achilles made. Teasing him like that was his favourite activity ever.

From the other side, Achiles’ faint words echoed, “We could’ve showered together!”

Pat ignored it for now.

  ** _*****_**

Their dinner was as luxurious as Pat could’ve expected. The self-serving concept had always been a favourite for Pat, who seemed to be the only one happy he could specifically pick what he liked to eat. The others were just happy they could pile french fries on their plates without limits. 

So while Pat was eating some french fries with veggies, Achilles was stuffing his face with his third portion of fries.

After such a long practice, Pat supposed he deserved it.

Their conversation was mostly about the sport, as the guys told Pat how he should’ve seen the shocked faces of the other contestants at Achilles' speed during training. Yes, he really should have. He would tomorrow, though. Instead of mentioning he was sad he hadn’t been there today, Pat gently squeezed Achilles’ thigh. They smiled at each other.

It was the least he could do for today. Pat would be sitting outside for a solid two days to see him run, he thought that was enough.

The topics were general small talk and strategies for tomorrow, but Pat found, at the end of the evening, only one conversational topic that really stayed with him.

It was girls.

One of the guys in the group mentioned Isabella, a girl Pat vaguely knew from a shared chemistry class. And suddenly, words started spilling. Some of the cheers were a bit disgusting, but Pat decided not to be a buzzkill. He listened with interest as the guys talked about their girlfriends, some even turning surprisingly soft at the memories.

“She's grand, totally. And man, she can fuck ya up! It's a pity I always have practice when she plays cus… wow, a hockeying girlfriend…”

Achilles was laughing and cheering with the others, all until one asked him what his type was.

Pat fell quiet, looking at his boyfriend to see what he had planned.

“Dark-haired ones, honestly, and she better have a smart mouth! I like them sharp.” Was Pat sharp? He had no idea.

From the corner of his eye, he saw two guys glance at him suspiciously, and Pat hoped he wasn't being too obvious as he looked down at his hands.

“And Pat, what about you?”

A silence fell, and Pat swallowed thickly. He… could appreciate girls, of course, but never like that. In fact, it made him cringe a little as he tried to describe a girl he’d like. “A...a girl who’s.. Just very sporty as well, preferably blonde but I don't really care, dunno. As long as she can value me for what I can instead of can't, I'll be fine.”

They seemed happy with that. One of them patted him on the shoulder hard enough to make him lose his balance as they laughed.

Pat sneaked a look at Achilles, who was smiling sweetly enough to make the nervousness disappear. 

**_*****_ **

It wasn’t too late when they returned from their dinner, but Pat still found himself quite exhausted from the day.

Achilles, on the other hand, was still a ball of energy. Pat was a little surprised at how much it didn't annoy him. Achilles was touching and pulling Pat inside of their little bungalow, Pat could only laugh and follow.

“Eager tonight, aren't you?” he asked. Achilles was giving him the most mischievous smile, and Pat was almost impressed at the speed in which he found them pressed chest to chest.

“Am I your type of girl?” Achilles whispered. He was so close, Pat felt the soft breaths against his lips… But Pat was even more distracted by the question, smiling.

He pecked those beautiful lips and held on to Achilles’ waist. “Am I yours?”

“My favourite type of girl? No.”

Pat was unable to hide the brief flicker of doubt, but then Achilles was smiling.

“My favourite type of guy? Always.”

Those words stayed with him, even after they’d gotten ready for bed and were lying there next to each other. It stayed with him as Achilles snuggled up against his back to kiss the nape of his neck.

And then Pat dared to say it. Words that had been stuck in his throat for so long, that he never dared to say out loud, but it was the truth.

“I love you.”

He couldn't see Achilles' gaze, but the firmness of his body against his back seemed to have grown stronger.

He just hoped Achilles wouldn't-

“I love you too, Philtatos,” he said, and then the firmness was gone, giving Pat space to turn around. When he did, he got a well-deserved kiss. “G’night.”

“Goodnight.” 

**_*****_ **

Pat never thought he’d survive the cold temperatures the following morning, but, fortunately, it wasn’t too bad. There was still an uncomfortable stirring in his stomach, and he couldn’t even blame it on the amount of omelette he’d eaten for breakfast; it was certainly mixed with the nervousness of his boyfriend competing.

He was sitting there, quietly looking at Achilles who had already rid himself of his sweatpants and jacket, wondering how the guy ever kept himself warm.

At least Pat now had the jacket for himself, and it seemed to do its work even better with Achilles’ familiar smell surrounding him.

He saw other competitors looking at Achilles with insecurity. Pat _did_ feel a little bad for the ones who would be in the first race with him.

After getting some tea for himself and chatting a little with the guys from their group when he passed by, the first match began. Pat looked proud as Achilles walked into his assigned starting position, a little amused that he even waved.

Then it was time. All the guys got into their starting positions. Even from a distance, Pat could see their muscles strain, and their warm breaths leave their noses like clouds into the crisp morning air. Pat was fascinated to see the pure determination on Achilles’ face.

The starting shot went off.

Achilles barely had to be worried, with a difference of almost half a second, they’d tell him later.

The most memorable thing was the thumbs-up Achilles had given him afterwards, and Pat couldn't help but chuckle as he did it back. Pat waved for him to come over so he could properly congratulate him.

It was almost weird to think that he’d been hating himself for doing the thumb-up before, self conscious that he’d been too awkward in doing so. Now he knew that, for as long as he’d known Achilles, there was nothing bad behind it. He was as genuine as you could get.

Now Achilles was next to him, gaze briefly going to Pat’s lips before meeting his eyes. Pat knew well what he was asking, but he’d rather not, quickly shaking his head.

“What did you think?”

Pat frowned thoughtfully, only for a moment to feign doubt. Achilles already knew the answer. The teasing was worth it, though, if only for the amused grin growing on Achilles' face. He loved these games.

“You found me amazing-”

“I kept my planning open for tomorrow, that's all I'm saying.” He faked a warning look at Achilles, which was answered with an arm around his waist and a laugh. Pat decided he’d surely stay warm if he kept himself pressed against Achilles; he was _glowing_.

Soon enough, he was called back for the next match. Pat showed his reluctance by pouting a little, but it only made his return better, he knew this.

_Off to battle._  

**_*****_ **

There was a bittersweet air hanging around their camp that evening, with Achilles having won every match almost effortlessly, and with some of their school’s candidates having lost the qualification matches. Pat was proud, of course, to see Achilles in the finale’s issued shirt. He also found it a bit embarrassing that he’d barely dared to ask the others how they did.

Although being good at most things seemed to be more of a blessing than a curse, this was one of the times where Pat realized how horrible the envy could be. He knew Achilles had asked many people of their days without a single trace of malice, only to get a nasty snap in reply.

Luckily, the small group of guys he knew by name weren’t all that bad. Some had lost, of course, but as they sat there around the campfire they’d made with a little bit of help from the coach, they didn’t seem to mind it.

“Hey, at least now we can watch the match with you, right?” Jake mentioned as he nudged his elbow against Pat’s side. He didn’t know why the guy had chosen to sit next to him, but he liked it anyway. He had never expected to feel so included in a group of sportsmen.

“Yeah, I guess I was sitting alone today…”

As if Achilles had been waiting for him to comment on that, Pat got a stick with a golden-grilled marshmallow shoved in front of his face. He only took it once his vision had focused. “Don’t act like I’m treating you badly, Patroclus,” he warned, and Pat snorted as he took a bite from the marshmallow, daring to shift just a little closer to him.  
  
The sweater Achilles was wearing was nice and soft, and with the mix of salty beach air and the warmth of the campfire, Pat decided it was a lovely evening to remember. He happily listened alongside Achilles to their teammate’s stories as he chewed on marshmallow after marshmallow.

Though really, the best part of the evening was sharing a bed with Achilles later on.

“You really didn’t mind sitting alone today?” Achilles asked Pat as he joined him in bed, just after brushing his teeth.

Pat could only really answer no, because he didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to sitting alone at the previous races he’d attended for Achilles. Those had helped him from feeling too self-conscious about it.

Pat settled into the warmth beneath their shared blanket and shook his head. “I could never get tired of watching you, why would I want to be distracted anyway?”

This seemed to make Achilles happy, who kissed him on the forehead a few times after letting out an amused huff of breath. “I wish I could’ve kissed you today.”

Pat remembered the moments as Achilles walked to him, looking at Pat’s lips with the question on the tip of his tongue, but every time, Pat had shook his head to decline. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, of course, but because he was trying to avoid any negative comments being directed at them.

“Someday you may, I promise, just not yet,” Pat murmured, soon hiding his head beneath the blankets. He made the message very clear for Achilles - he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

He stayed like that for only just a moment to emphasize his point, then moved himself up to look at Achilles again. He didn’t understand the look he was being given. Achilles was scanning his face very curiously, his lips forming just the slightest of smiles.

“What?”

His smile got bigger, but he didn’t answer, only responding by cupping Pat’s cheek and tilting his head. Those lips were on his again, soft and awfully sharp with peppermint toothpaste. “You know how happy I am you’re here to share this with me, right?”

Pat barely found the words to answer, Achilles sounded so sincere. “I do. I’m happy I was invited.”

“You looked good today. It was such a shame I couldn’t show everyone you’re mine, but, I guess I’m fine with just reminding myself of it.”

Pat found himself letting out a snort. It was weird to think this was the complete opposite of what he’d expected. The Achilles in the stories they’d read was the much admired demi-god. All Patroclus had been was his, and that was what made Patroclus, was it not?

“Why’s that funny?”

Pat expected Achilles to sound insulted, but he just really just sounded curious.

He shrugged. “Just the idea that I am admirable, or something you can be proud of...”

Pat saw the bothered look Achilles was giving him, then he realized how bad it must have sounded. He’d never been good with his wording.

“No, no I-I mean, in comparison with you, I’m the one people should be jealous of for having you, not the other way around-”

He was stopped by Achilles kissing him again. Pat felt annoyed that Achilles seemed to be ready to talk against him, to tell him it was stupid to think like that.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said instead. Pat fell quiet for a moment to consider what he was saying. “God, Patroclus. Do you honestly think of me like that? You’ve read the stories, have you not? That Achilles, he fell in love with that Patroclus for a reason. He went to war with him in mind, and damn, he even died at war with a smile knowing he would see his loved one again. Do you honestly think he wasn’t absolutely sure of what he was doing? Don’t you think this man had spent _years_ before their first kiss thinking about how much he loves this boy, over all the other boys who were offering themselves to him? He admired Patroclus, wanted nothing more than to fight in the Trojan war for years on end if it meant he’d be with him, and I understand it.”

“Why?”

“Because it would be about you, wouldn’t it? I see what that Achilles saw in Patroclus, in you.”

Patroclus fell silent after that. It was the most confusing yet clarifying thing Achilles had explained, because he felt the same. Even now, he recognized the memories, recognized when Achilles did similar things to what he’d done in their previous life. Even now, he felt if there was ever a possibility to follow Achilles into anything, he’d take it without hesitation.

Only after a moment of silence did he answer, more so Achilles wasn’t waiting for an answer than anything. “I understand, thank you.”

He leaned in to give Achilles a goodnight kiss, then rested his head on his shoulder, staying like that for a moment before deciding the pillow was still far more comfortable. Having his shins nicely settling against Achilles’ hip was enough for now.

“Goodnight.” 

**_*****_ **

Patroclus wasn’t sure if he preferred sitting alone at matches anymore now that he got to experience the excitement and adrenaline of Achilles’ friends, who weren’t afraid to be loud. They were quite fun.

Even during breakfast, they couldn’t stop talking about Achilles in relation to the big golden cup and who they thought was the most likely to win it. The one talking the least about it was Achilles himself, who stayed completely quiet on the matter. Nothing seemed out of the usual when they’d been dressing, as he’d still taken absolute ages to get into his uniform and had still joked around with him during it. Maybe he just wasn’t too sure of himself. Pat knew there wasn’t anybody else there who could accomplish the same feats Achilles could, but perhaps he just wanted to play it safe.

It was ridiculous how even during the warmup before the final run, the group was already clapping and whistling whenever Achilles passed by. Pat joined in amusement, though he made sure he wasn’t being too loud, mostly just clapping with them.

Achilles kept awkwardly waving at them. It reminded Pat of the look of pure fear people got in their eyes when they were being sung to during a birthday party.

Achilles had only needed about twenty minutes for his warmup and then to endure the quite shout-y motivational speech from his coach. Pat looked nervously when Achilles was finally called to the starting line, waving at his little fanclub who cheered so loud that Pat could swear he was going to go deaf. Achilles still looked at Pat afterwards to give him a thumbs-up, which warmed his heart as he sighed.

And then, just as before, things felt like they were slowing down.

They stood there, muscles tensing as they lowered themselves into their starting positions.

Pat saw the look of concentration on Achilles’ face as he stared down the finish line. His head tilted so he’d hear the starting shot.

It went off. The deafening cheers of their group followed quickly after, and Pat was shouting with them. Some competitors got a faster start over his boyfriend, but Achilles took big strides, speeding up to become third, then second, and…

There was someone far taller than him in first place. Pat could see his muscles work, determined to cross the line first, to get the cup just as much as Achilles.

Now Pat realized why Achilles had been so quiet all morning. This one was a worthy opponent, surely.

Pat held his breath, hands going to cover his mouth.

“Come on… Come on…” he heard himself whisper, and the other fans in their group had fallen just as quiet as Achilles impossibly sped up, gaining more on him, and more…  
  
Just before the finish, he was a few centimeters in the lead. Pat had never been so relieved as when Achilles ended up fully over the line first.

He barely heard the deafening cheering that followed afterwards, only feeling the benches vibrate as the guys around him jumped.

Pat only had eyes for Achilles, who ran right to them. He recognized that gaze, that determination, and that absolutely _cocky_ grin on his face.

Pat nodded before thinking about it, the adrenaline of everything, the glory that was within Achilles’ gaze making him forget his doubts.

Achilles cupped his face and kissed Pat like he was his prize.

He felt Achilles’ chest heave up and down against his, arms wrapping around his neck as he kissed just as eagerly back. Only now did the deafening cheers reach him, together with the high sounds of wolf-whistles. It made the champion in his arms chuckle so loud he was forced to part with Pat. They still kept close together, grinning at each other.

“Happy?” Pat asked, because Achilles had finally gotten everything he wanted. He loved the way Achilles’ arms moved around his waist and pulled him in closer.

“Ecstatic.”

Pat laughed and turned a bit, just enough to look around and see people’s reactions. Anyone even paying attention seemed genuinely happy for them. Some may have been good at hiding their distaste, Pat would think later, but now, the thrill of it all made it almost impossible to think negatively.

The other teammates came over, cheering for Achilles, pushing against his shoulders in excitement. Pat was pulled into the circle as well, being encouraged to jump with them, to chant his name, and he did so, just as excitedly.

A few of them slapped his shoulder and congratulated him on his boyfriend. The amazement of it made it almost hard to answer them all. 

*********

There was an hour between the finale and the prize handouts, an hour that was filled with old contestants and other school athletes congratulating Achilles left and right. He just sat on the bench with an arm around Pat’s waist, now realizing that indeed, showing him off was the best idea he’d had in a while. Of course, Achilles was often right.

It was almost foreign when Pat felt it again, that feeling he’d despised for so long. This time he was ready for it.

He met Achilles’ gaze just before he was swept away.

_The smooth wood was replaced with the feeling of a rough tree trunk, his hand moving over it to remind himself how real it felt. There was the aftertaste of a heavy sweet fruit on his lips as he licked them, looking around to see where he was. Although he felt other people being present in this memory, the only one he recognized as an actual presence was the boy with olive skin and golden hair. He looked older, ripened by age as they looked at each other, always with that same look._

_Pat found himself smiling, even if it felt bittersweet. They had won, but for what cause? How many days were yet to come? How many days did he have left to worry about the prince next to him, or the prophecy that was awaiting them? He did not want to know, but for now, he pressed just a little closer into Achilles’ warmth, feeling the only reprieve from Troy’s cold evening in the other’s skin._

He came back to his own reality a few seconds later, reaching for Achilles’ arm to keep himself steady, panting as he gathered his composure again. Achilles was a never-ending presence next to him.

“You okay?” he asked.

Pat nodded. “I was actually looking forward to it this time,” he admitted, because why shouldn’t he? He knew how bad Achilles had felt about it before, and now it had become a positive thing for him; he wanted the other to know.

Achilles pulled Pat against his chest, and he was expecting a kiss. Instead, Achilles leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Victory seems to only be worth it when I’m with you, doesn’t it?” 

*********

The cup Achilles received during the ceremony was indeed quite large, Pat realized, when Achilles had passed it to him and dared him to drink from it. It was easily big enough to fit two liters of cola.

Even as Pat was cheered on, it was a lost cause. He lowered the cup to hand it back to Achilles, slightly captured by how it reflected lights from the disco ball overhead. They were in a community center that agreed to host the closing party, and it was the first time Pat was surrounded with all the competitors.

He would’ve felt out of place if it wasn’t for Achilles’ amazing teammates, who seemed to make efforts to include him now they knew what he really meant to Achilles.

The loud music didn’t stop the fun, neither did the endless amount of people coming over to congratulate Achilles again, some of them even being a little flirty until Achilles decided to introduce Patroclus. Every single face was priceless, that was for sure.

Thanks to a ton of sugar, Pat was opening up a bit more in the party. Achilles kept looking amused whenever he talked, he took that as a good thing.

“So Pat, now you really gotta tell me how you met Achilles, he never told us!”

Pat knew why. They had talked before about getting their stories straight so they didn't have to give the actual (unbelievable) version.

“I had to put about ten medals on his chest during a home meet, and I guess he was really into that.”

Achilles choked a little on his drink, together with some guffaws from the guys around him.

“Don’t act like you weren’t impressed with my chest, Pat, you love it.”

He scoffed when Achilles winked. David, the guy now next to him, was laughing at this news. The only thing Pat could pay attention to was Achilles' hand that slipped just a little beneath his shirt to touch the skin on his back, a shiver going through him.

If they didn’t notice the little bubble of romance Pat and Achilles were in that night at the party, they sure did when, about an hour after their group had gotten their hands on some beers, they couldn't seem to find the two anywhere. It was weird when you thought about it. Achilles was notable, everyone knew that.

They asked around, finding a girl and a boy sitting in a corner with matching swollen lips and messy hair. They mentioned that indeed, they had seen two guys making out in one of the corners of the bean bags.

One of the guys immediately said ‘nope’ and walked away, but a few of them who had been close to Pat and Achilles today knew that, in public, Pat would never allow that. 

As promised, they found Pat and Achilles wrapped up in a bean bag chair, kissing lazily. It would’ve been cute if their teammates hadn’t been horribly impatient, dragging Achilles from the bean bag with Pat following.

He held Achilles' hand. It was barely enough after the contact they had before, but when he looked at the clock, he was happy the others had interrupted them. It had gotten late. He supposed it was better to be stopped by them instead of strangers who might not quite agree with it.

Pat only had two beers. He claimed the lightheadedness came from Achilles, as his hands had been soothing him, warm and pleasant, distracting him so much that the loud, thumping music had even faded to the background.

They were walking back to the bungalows, a short five-minute walk that seemed to take _ages_ because Pat had not a single moment to stop and kiss Achilles. He’d have to wait till they were inside, going mad with just the brush of a thumb over the back of his hand with their fingers laced together.

“Goodnight!” They all called, some others said “have fun!” which didn't make sense until they were finally alone, behind the closed door of their summer house. Then fell the suddenness of it all.

Pat had been waiting for this all night. He looked at Achilles, responding to his beckoning by  immediately melding their bodies together again as they kissed. 

There was something different about it, now with the realization that no one was here to interrupt or judge them for what they were doing. Maybe that was what Pat needed, the assurance that no one was going to find them. He let himself lower his guard.

During the party, Achilles had stopped touching Pat’s back as soon as he’d shivered, but now, with the smallest kind of courage, Pat dared to do it himself. His hand lowered near Achilles' waist to slip below his shirt. Achilles slightly paused in the kiss, and Pat breathed out in amusement. Achilles was waiting curiously to see what would happen, he could tell, his fingertips lightly tracing the first patches of skin on his abdomen.

For once Pat knew he was doing things very, _very_ right.

It was an entire role reversal. Achilles was waiting for something, giving Pat the lead, and Pat was confident enough to continue with it.

He took his time tracing the notable lines of muscles on his stomach and chest. For the second time ever, he dared to deepen it, his lips parting against a pair of lips that followed so quickly that Achilles must have known it was coming.

It was a new experience, to see how much passion could be shared through such a kiss. Pat wanted to show Achilles everything he made him feel, the memories of two love stories combined in one person, kissing him like it could convey the message for him.

Achilles' movements were slow, rigid, not at all sure of himself. Now Pat realized he wasn’t the only one experiencing this for the first time. Achilles’ hands traced Pat’s skin now, too, though slowly, as if trying to memorize every edge, every scar that was etched into it.

Pat’s hands had gone still, too distracted in the kiss. He discovered new places to kiss Achilles all along his neck, his skin warm and glowing with a quickened heartbeat fluttering like his own.

“Patroclus..” Pat thought it was an encouragment for him to continue at first, but then Achilles was gently pressing his hand against his chest. He looked up.

The eagerness within him disappeared, becoming very nervous at Achilles’ response, but then he was smiling again, sweet and reassuring. “I was thinking.. Maybe it's better to continue with this in bed...”

A shock went through him at the implications of that. It was a big leap from anything they’d done before, but Pat was in no way discouraged by it, not at all, licking his lips and nodding. 

*********

Achilles had no shame, it seemed, as he undressed right in front of Pat without a single warning. Pat usually went into the other room or the bathroom whenever he had to change, but now, everything felt different.

Achilles already knew what he looked like thanks to the shared memories of their past life, and in return Patroclus had felt Achilles’ skin beneath his fingertips before. He’d felt the shiver of pleasure going through him, he’d heard the sound of Achilles muttering his name… But that was in a different life. Was he ready for this one’s?

Pat’s hands shook as he tried unbuttoning his shirt as quick as possible. He kicked off his jeans, following Achilles in bed, both of them in nothing but their underwear. The less amount of time he had to change his mind, the better.

He crawled into his side of the bed, eyes locked with Achilles’ the entire time. Pat had, quite shamelessly, still not stopped staring at him. He smiled nervously, and he could feel it go a little askew as his thoughts began running off without him.

“Nervous?” Pat turned his head down at the way Achilles said it, soft enough to make it sound concerned, yet hopeful enough for the idea to pop back into his head. He wanted this, Achilles wanted this, and the alcohol was certainly helping the process along; it made him feel all fuzzy and warm. Pat would always be in love with the attention Achilles gave him, it was only ever for him.

He shifted closer and watched how Achilles turned to meet him halfway. Their lips met once more; hopefully that answered his question.

Now when Achilles touched him, it was on bare skin, softer than the caress of the blankets covering them, gentler than the touch of his lips. It made Pat shiver in delight. His own fingertips reached humbly in return, though he was afraid he’d never do it quite like that, not quite with that level of care. Then again he was biased in his experiences, even before he’d been born.

They reached further, crossing borders Pat would’ve found terrifying before. Achilles helped him through with ease, but they still did not cross the very last one; and frankly, Pat knew if he thought too much about it he’d hesitate and he’d ruin it.

And oh, he felt it, the hand on his neck, lowering ever so slowly from his collarbones to his abdomen. Achilles' lips were coaxing sounds from him that Pat never imagined he’d make. He focused on the attention Achilles was giving the crook of his neck, slightly hoping the mark wouldn’t fade, if only for a day.

The hand sneaked lower, and Pat felt a hitch in his breathing. He was eagerly waiting to see what he would do from here, how brazen they would be in crossing that border.

Achilles continued downward, the kisses along his neck slowing to a stop as if he needed all his attention on this one movement trailing down Pat’s stomach.

He was just about to slip the hand below his waistband when Pat pull away, a hand reaching out for his instead. “No...”

It felt like there was something missing, a hesitation was in him. Achilles retracted his arm like he’d been scalded, biting his lip, and Pat instantly regretted declining in such a way.

“I-I can't, not yet.”

“Too soon?”

Pat looked up, and found it curious how Achilles avoided his gaze. Was he.. embarrassed? Why would he be? He moved closer and Achilles allowed it, though he did not initiate anything himself just yet.

“I don't know… If there was something pulling me to you before, now it’s pushing me away…” Pat laid there on his side, Achilles mirroring him with an arm crossed over his chest. He was about to try coaxing it away so he could lean into him, but Achilles shifted.

The question came just as abruptly as Pat deciding to not take that final step.

“If this is indeed reincarnation, why else would we have given up our afterlife together if not for a different fate?”

At first it sounded like Achilles was suggesting they’d been given a scond chance, to live again in this life and finish it how they pleased, but when it was coupled with a sigh, Pat realized it had a different meaning, an entirely different one.

Pat didn't dare to speak it aloud in the hopes Achilles wasn't really thinking that.

“I don't understand,” he admitted, if not lied.

“What if we were never supposed to meet in this lifetime?”

Achilles was always the one who’d been good at speaking. Achilles was the admired one, the confident one, yet here he was, asking that question in a voice low enough to keep from breaking.

Pat fell silent. He heard nothing but the breaths shared between them and counted every exhale. It was a great way to calm him down, for Pat didn't know the answer.

They possibly never would.

Achilles had just reassured him yesterday how he’d felt the same attraction, how he’d felt the reason why Achilles would give his life and sacrifice everything just for Patroclus to be back in his arms.

So why couldn't he feel this now?

“I'm sorry,” Pat said. He felt like it was his fault Achilles thought this, with how hard he’d fought in the beginning against being with him, how he constantly turned him down, how he’d hidden their relationship until today. Had Pat ruined it simply by being too stubborn? He wasn't sure.

“From everything I’ve read and everything I know from it, I think its likely we’ve been given a second chance.”

Achilles nodded. He untangled his arm and pulled Pat in for a hug, and Pat hugged him back.

“All I know is that I love you now. And I know for a fact we wouldn’t have met, or have even went to the same high school if it was not by fate, in some way.” There were never such coincidences, he couldn't believe that.

Achilles stayed quiet, so Pat just curled up against him a little more. He hoped by god the other would be convinced in some way.

“Achilles, it’s me that isn't ready for this, okay? Not.. Not anything related to us, to the things we’ve been through in this life.”

“You can't be one-hundred percent sure of that,” Achilles said, and Pat fell quiet once again. There was nothing to argue there, but it felt, once again, like Achilles meant something else.

_We might never know what's really happening to us._

“I don't care, because _I_ am sure of it. Even if it wasn’t, like hell am I letting fate or some prophecy ruin this for us.” He lifted his head, and it took a moment for Achilles to meet his eyes. Pat gave another crooked smile at the way Achilles looked at him, peering from under his lashes. He seemed really quite upset, he must have been sitting on this for a while.

“Philtatos.”

_Dearly beloved._

“That's me, but it's also you,” Pat whispered back.

Achilles huffed out his nose, and relief washed over Pat as he saw the beginnings of a smile stretch his cheeks. He kissed Achilles again, the smile widening after he’d pulled away.

“I’m fine with waiting until you’re ready for it, Patroclus.”

Pat leaned a little closer into Achilles and buried himself against his chest as best he could. He planned to refuse to leave that spot until the next morning. 

*********

Once again, they were back on the bus. The mood was different for everyone, though Pat could sympathize with the people he’d known had stayed late at the drinks table. Those ones were particularly quiet, all laid out in the back seats together. Pat was sporting quite a hangover of his own. It hurt to be in the light so they’d closed all the curtains around them, getting some mumbled thanks from their teammates along the way. Achilles had stayed quiet in general, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with his mood.

In fact, Pat was sure it was just the result of too much alcohol and too little sleep. He wasn’t complaining, though; he needed the silence lest his temples start throbbing again.

He remembered the events clear enough to realize the consequences of his words. Even after reading most of the translated documents they’d been emailed, they had still not come any closer to their past life than what their memories gave them. Pat had died, Achilles had mourned, and in the end they had met again.

Pat still remembered the feeling of light spreading through him, covering his skin, running through his veins, only by the mere touch of Achilles’ hand on his.

This wasn’t a perfect story. Pat felt stupid to ever think they were truly going to solve this mystery surrounding them; as it was, some things in this world simply remained unexplained.

Whether or not he was okay with that, though, was a different story.

Pat glanced over to Achilles, who was slightly slumped in his seat with his eyes closed. He had fallen asleep, catching up with his schedule, it seemed. Pat knew he should do the same, but there was a question ringing through his head, keeping him awake. He could not silence it yet, not until he had made a decision.

Would he ever be satisfied with the result of their research, about saying yes instead of no to Achilles?

_Yes._

He would, Pat decided; it shouldn’t have even been a question in the first place. He noticed movement in the corner of his eye, and turned to find Achilles stirring awake next to him, opening his eyes once more.

“Had a good rest?” he asked. There was no need to bother Achilles with these thoughts, he kept them away.

Achilles blinked at him as he slowly regained himself, but then he was smiling, and Pat felt himself smile back without hesitation. “Hmm.. good enough, I guess. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Pat watched as Achilles moved the arm rest up so there was nothing separating them, completely in wonder when he settled closer, leaning his head on Pat’s shoulder and sighing.

Pat didn’t dare to say anything else, and within a few minutes, Achilles was drifting off again. Pat saw the movements of his chest slowly going up and down, mesmerized by the sight and welcoming the feeling of dizziness creeping up on him like an old friend.

_It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me._

And it was right. Pat would never give this up, it was more than he would’ve ever expected out of this life.

He settled himself comfortably against Achilles while he slept, and it was only a matter of minutes before he fell asleep along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not done with these two yet, Lux Aeterna doesn't translate to 'Eternal Light' for nothing.
> 
> If, just like Susan, you have a tendency to skip the beginning notes, scroll back pal.
> 
> Also, Serena, Saskia, Chio, Sam, and my beautiful muse Greta, thank you so much for being there for me and listening to my bullshit, i hope it was worth it.  
> [Any questions? Comments? Or just wanna talk to me? You can find me on my Tumblr riiiiight here!](http://achilltatos.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a nice comment or Kudos!


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